


Midsummer Murders

by AnnettePoudre



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, F/M, Multi, Murder Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2018-12-21 16:12:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 98,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnettePoudre/pseuds/AnnettePoudre
Summary: When a man turns up dead in the woods behind Hermione Granger's back yard, Corban Yaxley and Antonin Dolohov are sent to investigate. Hermione finds herself tangled up in a murder investigation that has an ever increasing body count, relying increasingly on two Death Eaters, one who tried to kill her, and one who has made an oath that he wouldn't. Can she solve the mystery before becoming another victim?





	1. Death of a Stranger

The sun was dipping lower and lower in the sky, giving everything a reddish hue as Hermione swung on the porch swing, her foot pushing off the ground every so often to keep the steady rocking back and forth, a page turned, a bird’s song started again, the lights flickered on. She was deeply engrossed in a book on defense spells, her book resting against her chest, her wand lay next to the empty glass of lemonade on the wood.

She yawned and laid the book on her chest, the incantations still swirling in her mind, each word repeated over and over to memorize them. Memorization was the only skill you could have at a time where every moment was critical, she drew the wand motions lazily with her finger and felt the sun hit her hand, warming it, and then it was gone.

She snapped open her eyes to see two men in suits staring at her front door, blocking out her sun as they fidgeted awkwardly with their neckties. The shorter one, a man with fine blonde hair was feeling her siding looking for something. “What is it?” The taller man asked yanking uncomfortably on his blue tie, she was sure it would snap.

“The bell.”

“There is no doorbell,” Hermione said sitting up, the book falling to her lap. “How can I help you two?”

They both froze and looked over at the girl who was placing a bookmark in her book, her hair done up in a messy bun. “My parents aren’t home right now, how can I help you?”

“Right, we’re from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the D-M-L-E for short, and we’ve got a few questions.” The shorter, blonde man had a northern accent, but his voice rocked her like the swing she was on. The last defensive spell passed over her eyes once before she looked up to answer.

“What would the DMLE be…” The words died in her throat, the man, the taller man, was no stranger, she had met him just months ago. Dark, hollow eyes, dark hair that came down to his shoulders, a five o’clock shadow, he was a man who looked like murder and made the wandstrike on her chest itch.

He took out a small notebook, but Hermione was off like a shot. “Have you noti-wait!”

She hopped over the railing, kicking over a glass as she left, forgetting her wand and cursing herself for doing so as she tore through the back garden, stumbling slightly over a few plants as she started running through the cul-de-sac. He was here to finish her off, Antonin Dolohov, his eyes were burnt into her mind, hollow, dead,  _ determined _ .

“Dammit, you didn’t tell me….” The blonde man’s voice became muffled as she turned the corner and started running down the residential street towards the woods, her feet hurt each time they hit the hot pavement, no shoes, no wand, no way out.

“Dolohov!” The blonde yelled again and she turned back to see if they were still chasing her.

Hermione blew past a swingset and headed towards the woods, looking back one last time before she disappeared into the trees, sticks and stones cutting up her feet, adrenaline coursing through her. How had they found her? What would her parents think once they came home in a few hours? Would she be able to get notice to The Order in time? She tripped over a tree root and closed her eyes, bracing for impact, but she never met the ground.

Two strong arms and  _ warmth _ dragged her up to standing, Antonin Dolohov was holding her, looking at her curiously.

“Department of Mysteries.”

She didn’t respond, narrowing her eyes and going rigid. She may be defenseless but she was not about to give up to this man. She would not spill her secrets, she would give him no satisfaction in her fear.

“ _ Merlin _ ,” panted the man behind her “ _ Fucking Merlin _ .” 

She did not turn, she glared at the man, her killer.

“Right, ok, Miss Hermione Granger, we have a few questions” He was still panting, bent over.

“No.” She replied, tilting her chin up.

The leaves rustled behind her and she felt a wave of magic, flinching at what she thought was a killing curse, but none came.

“Not too far from here, a wizard by the name of Lewis Catchepoole was found murdered, and seeing as you are one of the few magical persons within the area, we were wondering if you had noticed anything strange goings ons as of late.”

“You probably murdered him yourself.” She spat. “Seeing your  _ history _ and all.” 

“Come sit.” The blonde man said, patting a chair before sitting in one himself. “No one is murdering anyone here, and it’d be in your best interest to cooperate with magical law enforcement, yeah?”

Antonin Dolohov, what a man he was to hold her hostage after she had escaped him once before. Hermione stiffly walked to the conjured table and pulled out one of the ornate wooden chairs surrounding it, she splayed her fingers on the smooth surface, staring hard into the wood grain. She refused to look up.

“Did you know a Lewis Catchepoole?” The blonde asked   


“No.”

A magical picture was slid across the table and she saw him, a blonde pudgy man who was waving at someone off camera in a quidditch stand, the wind blowing his Hufflepuff scarf off to one side. She had seen him around at the local grocery, and sometimes at an Italian place not too far from where she lived that her parents loved.

“Not all wizards and witches know each other in England.” She said and slid the picture back. “Where did you say he lived?”

Antonin was watching her and she felt a shiver of revulsion go down her spine.

“Two houses over from you, the blue house on the end of the cul-de-sac.” The blonde said “He went missing last week, and was found dead...in the woods here.”

Hermione shot up and so did Antonin. “So you’ve taken me to be murdered-”

“Listen girl.” barked Antonin “No one is here to murder you, if we wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”

She set her jaw and looked at him. “I very well  _ might _ have been dead if your curse had been better aimed!”

A chill set over her and she was sure it was fear that yelling at a known death eater while unarmed would get her killed. The forest seemed to feel her fear too, the last birds stopped singing for the night, the crickets had gone silent, it was just the three of them, her heavy breathing, and the sound of the blonde man tapping his pen impatiently on the wooden table.

“Right, ok, Miss Hermione Granger, we’re here on _official_ _business_ , from the Ministry of Magic, no one is going to harm anyone, right? It’d be good if you’d just tell us what you knew so we could find out who killed this man, whether it magical or muggle. Take a seat so we can get this over with and everyone can go home.”

“He was murdered?” She sighed, sitting back down.   


“Strangled, a very non-magical murder, but since it’s a wizard involved we must investigate.”

“Why haven’t I seen any cops yet if he was murdered in my back yard?”

The blonde rolled his eyes and slid a card across the table  _ Corban Yaxley - Department Head _ .  _ Department of Magical Law Enforcement  _ “You’re with the cops right now, well one cop, and friend.”

“That doesn’t seem-”  
“I’m good at sussing out liars, Miss Granger.” Dolohov said beside her “And you recognize Mr. Catchepoole.” 

A chill came over her again and she wondered why Dolohov unnerved her so much, she crossed her arms and huffed at her own cowardice. She could see the steam of her breath. “You see people who live in your neighborhood, at the grocer and sometimes at local spots like the Italian place, but I didn’t know him, I never spoke with him, and I certainly didn’t know he was a wizard.”

The sun was rapidly disappearing, Yaxley fidgeted. “Right, that’s a good start. When was the last time... _ lumos _ ...When was the last time you saw Mr. Catchepoole then?” Yaxley said writing down something in the small flip notebook he had.

She furrowed her brow when _ was _ the last time she saw him? Was it bad to give these two known death eaters information to his murder? What if they were just trying to figure out her habits to follow her to The Order? “A few weeks ago for sure, at the Tesco, the grocery store, he was in line behind me.”

A bat swooped near her, the flutter of wings overhead and she looked up into the darkness. “Tesco?” Yaxley asked, his breath clouding the air, he rubbed his temple and looked over into the darkness of the woods.

Hermione made a motion to stand again, annoyed. “That’s all I know. Can I-” a fluttering of wings overhead and then a feeling of dread. This was a familiar feeling, this emptiness, this sadness, this  _ coldness _ . It clicked. “Dementors.”

The table and the chairs suddenly disappeared as Yaxley stood up, stumbling away from them and into the brush, but Dolohov seemed like he had been stunned, staring into the darkness, his wand limply by his side. She had no wand, she had no defenses, and the only thing she could do was run, and so Hermione took off into the pitch black darkness running off away from the two Death Eaters and into nothingness, but as she got closer to the darkness, the colder it got, and the worse she felt. Tree branches seemed to grab at her and leaves whipped her in the face, the sound of hissing and whispers became white noise and then  _ heat _ seemed to envelope her, the fires of hell licking at her, consuming her.

A shout, a small light. “Girl! Granger Girl!” Yaxley was hugging her tightly to his chest, a lumos that was no more than a candle in the overwhelming hissing darkness, she could barely hear him, every terrible memory she had was nipping at her consciousness.

She was shivering, Yaxley pushed him behind her into another body and tried to call a Patronus but it died before it fully materialized. “Gi-gi-give me the  _ wand _ !” She yelled and he didn’t seem to notice.

Hermione turned to see what was behind her and it was a shellshocked Dolohov. “Give me your wand Dolohov!”

He didn’t move, he didn’t even seem to register her. Hermione groped around his body in the darkness until she felt his arm, following it all the way down, her hands trembling until she felt the cool slick wood, it slid easily from his hands and Yaxley pushed back into the two of them as another Dementor swooped into the trio.

“It won’t  _ work _ .” Yaxley said as she flung the wand out towards the Dementors closing in on them “It’s not your wa-”

Hermione exhaled and tried to remember the moment she was told she was a witch, the moment she stepped on to Hogwarts Grounds, the smell of Hogwarts a History when she cracked the spine for the first time.

“ _ Expecto Patronum _ .” 

There was a white mist that glowed and surrounded them, briefly coalescing into an otter before disappearing. The wand burnt her hand as the spell got swallowed up by the strange wood. Panic began to set in now, neither death eater could summon a patronus and there must be two dozen dementors set on them in the woods. 

“Give me your wand!” She shifted the hot wood into her other hand and held her hand out to Yaxley. A scream as a dementor tugged at her hair painfully, pulling at Antonin behind her. She grabbed her murderer, her human shield, and kept him close. They would have to take him before they could get to her.

Yaxley handed it over and she closed her eyes, a prayer flitted briefly through her mind before another go “ _ Expecto Patronum _ .” It was brighter, and she could hold the spell, Yaxley’s hand suddenly came over hers and the heat from the wand dissipated and the white mist successfully coalesced into an otter that began to swim around their heads, giving them some breathing room from the herd of dementors.

Yaxley’s free hand came around her back and Hermione felt weak as she held the spell, but he wouldn’t let go of her hand, he wouldn’t let her stop, and with Dolohov in hand there was a tugging at her stomach and they disapparated.

* * *

 

Hermione collapsed into a stack of cardboard boxes and vomited, the sickness of being too close to dementors so long followed by the vertigo caused by apparating caught up with her and came out into the alleyway. “Right, all appendages?  _ Evanesco _ .” Yaxley said and Hermione was clean and so was her mess.

She looked up to see where they were and the red Tesco sign glowed above the three of them. Dolohov was sitting on the ground, his head in his hands, his fingers buried in his hair. Yaxley was eying everyone who walked past them as Hermione sat back on her heels, eyes closed trying to fight another bout of queasiness. She felt like she had contracted the flu in the past few minutes, every muscle hurt.

“I want to go home.” She said standing up “Are we at the Tesco near my house?”

Yaxley suddenly looked sheepish “I don’t know  _ what _ Tesco I apparated us to, just a Tesco.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m leaving.” She sniffed, standing up slowly, dizziness threatened to overtake her, she braced herself on the wall briefly, but cursed herself at being so weak before straightening herself up.

“Wait.” It was Dolohov, his voice was muffled by his hands “We need to go into Tesco for something.”

“I don’t need to go into Tesco for  _ anything _ , especially not with you two.” She said taking a step forward, a rock digging into her bare foot. She gingerly stepped somewhere else and started to walk down the alley. 

Antonin Dolohov caught up with her and grabbed her arm, she flinched. Was he going to kill her outside the Tesco?

“Just  _ wait _ .” His voice was rough like the gravel she walked on, and like that she found herself sitting on the curb outside the Tesco, watching cars go by in the nearly empty parking lot.

Dolohov came back out twenty minutes later with a plastic bag, and tossed it next to her as they walked back out into the parking lot.

“The card,” Yaxley explained as his friend walked away, handing her a white business card, vellum and ink. “It can act like a portkey of sorts, if you’re in need, just hold it with both hands and the DMLE will be at your loca- _ Dolohov! _ ” He turned and followed the dark man into night. There was thunder and then she knew she was alone.

In the bag was a pair of sandals and a bar of Cadbury’s. She slipped them on her dirty feet and took a bite out of the chocolate bar, feeling the last residue of the dementors melt off of her. She walked out to the road and waited, and eventually the Knight Bus came for a witch in need. As she sat, the chocolate melted all over her hands. She stared down at the strappy jelly sandals that Dolohov had bought for her. A murderer. A kindness.


	2. Birds of Prey

It was breakfast the next day and Hermione was pouring over the paper for any mention of the murder that Yaxley and Dolohov had asked her about, but there was no mention of a Lewis Catchepoole in either papers.

“Dear, you’re getting the paper in your cereal.” Her mom cautioned, sitting down across from her daughter and tugging the business section out from underneath the paper that was splayed across the dining room table.

“Mum, did you know a Lewis Catchepoole from around here?” She asked, finally folding the paper and digging into her soggy cereal.

“Hm, I do know a Mary Catchepoole that lives a few streets over but she’s been long gone. She died a few years back now, never brushed her teeth that woman, lost ‘em all before the end.”

“Does she have any family?” Hermione asked as her mom got back up to take the kettle off the stove.

“Oh, I don’t really know that much about her, love, I only saw her when she came around the practice every now and then to get another tooth pulled. She was as poor as they come. I might still have her address on file.” Her mom looked out the window thoughtfully “Would you like to come along today and see?”

Hermione hummed in agreement “I haven’t much else to do.”

While waiting for her mother to get ready for work, which was a long and arduous process for a woman who would be mostly covered for the majority of the day, Hermione quickly penned a letter to Harry and Ron to see if they could find out more about Lewis Catchepoole. It was strange to think a wizard was hanging out in her neighborhood and there was no way that either of them had met. Surely after her expose in the prophet during her fourth year he would have at least introduced himself when they had seen each other around?

The dental practice was a twenty minute drive from their home in which her mother asked her the usual strained questions about school and her studies. Her parents wholeheartedly supported her but the divide between the family had begun to grow vast as Hermione matured. She watched the scenery of the small town go by as they rode in silence, out of small talk to fill the divide.

“A who?” Her father asked flipping through the appointment book for the day “You said this was a patient of ours?”

“Oh you remember Mary, she never brushed, you pulled out at least twelve of her teeth yourself!” Her mother responded flicking through the filing cabinet looking for the folder on Mary Catchepoole.

“I don’t remember a Mary Catchepoole  _ ever _ .” Her father said “Hermione, you know a Catchepoole from school you said?”

“Oh yes,” She lied easily “Lewis.”

A file landed in front of Hermione and in her father’s neat hand  _ Mary Catchepoole _ . “Since she was our patient up until a few years back, I knew we’d have her file still. Here you go dear, the address should be in there.”

“Thanks mum,” but before Hermione could grab it, her father did. 

“That’s my handwriting, for sure, but I don’t remember anything about this woman.”

Her mother snorted “You have the memory of a goldfish when it comes to patients.”

“I do not!” Her father insisted as the door tinkled to signal the first patient of the day. “It’s just so strange, this file folder is thick, I swear I don’t remember even meeting a Mary Catchepoole.” He handed the folder back to Hermione “Here you go dear, remember to put it back where you found it. Hello Mrs. Robinson!” He said getting up and heading towards the waiting room.

“Your father would forget his head if it wasn’t attached.” Her mother chastised and pulled out a bag of dental instruments “Take the car if you need to go back home, love. We can always call a taxi. I wouldn’t want to keep you cooped up in here all day.”

Her mother pulled out another box of latex gloves before heading out of the room, leaving Hermione alone in the office with the buzz of the fluorescent lights and the sound of the fans in the computer to keep her thoughts company.

Mary was an old stern looking woman with a severe face and a thin line for a smile. She had a polaroid along with all her x-rays and a file about half an inch thick. She had been a patient for at least ten years by the looks of things, and while all her teeth were eventually pulled she came to the dentists twice a year like clockwork. No children, no family, just a bad smoking habit. Hermione wrote down her address on a post-it note before lingering over the photo of Mary once more. Why hadn’t her father remembered a regular patient of ten years? Her mother’s words floated around once more “Your father would forget his head if it wasn’t screwed on.”

She left it at that, maybe her father really had forgotten. She bid her parents goodbye over the sound of the drill going and they both waved before she headed to go see Mary Catchepoole’s residence.

Her parents car was cool from the air conditioning by the time she pulled out of the parking spot in front of the dental practice. Hermione had stared long and hard at the post-it note before making a decision to go at least sate her curiosity. She had no stake in this. She didn’t know Lewis from any other wizard, but the fact that a wizard was murdered one house over in the woods made her  _ want _ to figure it out. She hoped Harry and Ron had owled her back some information on him by now. He didn’t exist in the muggle world, it seemed, and maybe this Mary had no relation, but it wouldn’t hurt to look, did it?

Mary lived in the wrong side of town, just on the other end of the woods, near the motorway. Hermione slowed down and parked next to a house with a rotting fence and a barking dog. There was a bang of a car backfiring that made her heart stop and she stayed in the car for a little while longer, watching the street for anything untoward. What was she  _ thinking _ ? 

Hermione pushed away any more doubts and decided if she was going to look, she was going to look and put an end to it.  _ 1236 Magnolia Drive _ was going to be just a quick look around and she was leaving. She opened the car door and the dog started barking and jumping on the fence to get at her. “Sorry, dog, I don’t have anything for you today.”

The barking didn’t stop, the dog followed her to the end of its’ yard and continued to tell the neighborhood of her arrival.

The residents of 1234 watched her from their window as she passed by them and she waved nervously, and their yard was full of junk, even on the side it had rusted cars, and tires everywhere, and then the residents of 1238, who were sunbathing in the front yard waved hello. Hermione backed up, 1236 was missing.

“Granger girl.” It was Yaxley, he was standing in front of a rusted out car in 1234’s yard. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Mr. Yaxley.” She said from the sidewalk, crumpling the post-it note in her hand.

“Come on then, we’re both here for the same reason.” He walked through the car and held out his hand to her “I thought you didn’t know Lewis Catchepoole, and yet you know where his mum lived even though it’s secret kept.”

She turned her head to ignore him, then realized that 1238 was watching them and Yaxley was now standing inside the illusion of a rusted out Ford, half of his body phased through the roof.

“Come on then, girl, they can’t see me, they can only see you.” Yaxley grabbed her and pulled her through the broken fence.

“And they just saw me disappear!” She shrieked and pulled away from him.

Instead of the junk yard that she thought belonged to the neighbors a small cottage appeared that looked like it had come from a fairy tale.  The ivy had swallowed the house it seemed, she could see the dusty windows from between the leaves, they were beginning to crawl up the thatched roof and the small brick chimney, the heavy wood door was ajar and she heard the sound of broken pottery being moved around.

“Whoever was here left in a hurry, yeah?” It was Dolohov “Yax, who are you talking to?”

“A Miss Hermione Granger.” He called back “Well, you’re here now, maybe you can help us out.”

“Why should I help you?” She snapped “I just...I’m just leaving.” This was a stupid idea anyways, she turned to leave but Yaxley grabbed onto her wrist again.

“Be a consultant on this case for a bit, little girl, and then you can leave.”

“I’m not little.”

“You’re what, a fifth year?”

“I’ll be sixth and I’m very  _ mature _ for my age, if you catch my drift, so hands off. I have my wand this time you know.” To demonstrate she fished around her pocket for her wand but Yaxley just rolled his eyes.

“There’s a thing in here, we don’t know what it is, and we just want to figure out what happened to Mr. Catchepoole, so could you just come and see? You can go freely once you’re done.”

“I want Dolohov outside.”

“Antonin!” Yaxley said.

The tall man ducked as he stepped outside. He was wearing just a t-shirt and jeans this time, his hair pulled back messily as he held a cordless phone that was beeping the off-hook signal. “What is this?”

“It’s a fellytone.” Yaxley said “Put it back.”

“It’s a  _ telephone _ .” Hermione corrected, annoyed that pureblood wizards seemed to have no idea what a majority of the world was up to.

“Right, it’s a telly...telephone.” Yaxley affirmed, as if he had known the whole time. He nodded and held the cordless phone to his ear “Hello, please stop making that noise.”

“Give me that.” She said and snatched the phone from him, suddenly realizing that Dolohov was now four feet away from her and headed inside quickly.

Yaxley grinned and followed her inside. She felt like perhaps he was acting a bit stupid on purpose to goad her, but she was inside now, and so she might as well see what they were up to.

The house was a mess, it seemed like someone had come in here and deliberately trashed everything, an entire set of fine china was shattered on the floor and the kitchen table was turned over. The cupboards were open and food was strewn about, a loaf of bread was torn open and sitting in the sink along with a host of spices that had all been burst open.

“This happened only a few days ago.” She said peering into the sink and pointing to the food. “You see the bread, it hasn’t got any mold on it. I thought you said that he died a week ago.”

“He was found a week ago.” Yaxley said toeing some china away “He had been dead a few days before he was found according to the muggle death man.”

“The muggle death man?” She said and placed the phone back on its hook. There was a red light blinking on the answering machine.

“You know, he tells you about death. Death man.” Yaxley shrugged.   


“Does he work with the muggle police?” She asked, looking back at him. The sunlight caught his hair and gave him a halo in his black suit.

“Yeah, this is it, this is the light, I think it’s a recorder.” Yaxley pressed the only button and the answering machine replied.

“You have six new messages.” The robot spoke into the stillness of the room, but it never played anything beyond that.

“How do I get the messages? Did it write them down?”

Hermione leaned down and inspected the machine before pressing another button on the side. A compartment on the front popped open revealing an empty tape deck. “Someone took the tape. It records all the messages.” She said matter of factly “Can I go now?”

Yaxley waved her off “You are free to go, ma’am.” She looked at him strangely and he flashed her a smile “That was very muggle of me, wasn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes and turned to go when she saw one of the papers on the floor had her neat handwriting.

_ Dear Harry and Ron _ , peaked out from underneath a broken plate. She paused.

“What is it?” Yaxley asked behind her.

She bent down and tugged the letter free of the debris to find her parchment, a letter she had written them at the beginning of the summer full of her usual pleasantries, small talk about her parents, a reminder to do their summer work early.

“It’s—well—it’s mine.” 

“This letter?”

She stood up and looked back at Yaxley, unsure of whether she should speak any more to him but he yanked the parchment out of her fingers. “ _ All my love, Hermione Granger _ .” He said flipping it over to see if there was anything else on the back. “It seems, Granger, that you and whoever lived at this house knew each other after all.  _ Accio  _ Hermione Granger’s letters.”

The whole house came alive and they were caught in a hurricane of paper. Yaxley pulled her close to him instinctively, and he smelled like clean laundry. Hermione closed her eyes and for the briefest of seconds sought safety in his arms.

 

* * *

 

 

Dolohov was sorting the letters out on the front porch by year and she was mortified, pacing back and forth in front of the two of them as Yaxley skimmed each and every letter she had ever sent to her parents or from their house. “Dear Mum, I am having a hard time this year, I have not made many friends. I am starting to think this school was a mistake.” Yaxley said and looked up at her quizzically.

“Stop! What gives you the right!” She cried, her face red. “I can’t believe someone has been reading my post for the last six years.”

“Reading your post?” Yaxley held the letter out to Antonin as he read the next one “They’ve been copying every letter for the past five years, it’s safe to say even if you didn’t know about Lewis, Lewis knew about you. Dear Mum, I met two boys, they’re-”

“Why?” She cut him off before more of her childhood was read out loud for amusement “Is he some kind of...pedophile?”

Dolohov looked up at her disgusted. “Shouldn’t we have found more evidence if he was a pedophile? Other kids? All we’ve found is evidence of  _ you _ .”

Hermione frowned and turned back towards the street, her arms crossed. “Ok, so he’s not a pedophile, and he’s dead.”

“If it’s like you said, Granger, then whoever was here last was not Lewis Catchepoole.” Dolohov looked back in the house towards the kitchen.

She stared at the house long and hard. How did he know to intercept every letter she had sent out of her house? Was he spying on her house somehow to check when she was writing? How could he have gotten  _ every single one _ ? She felt the prickle of someone watching her and looked down at the two men who were sitting on the stoop sorting through her mail. Dolohov was regarding her curiously. She hated the way he looked at her.

“I’m leaving.” She stated.

“Can you do me a favor?” Yaxley said, getting up with a bundle of papers.

“Absolutely not.” She huffed.

“It’d be in your best interest to cooperate with the Ministry, Miss Granger.” Yaxley said boredly “Send an owl, to anyone when you get home, I would like to see how your mail has been intercepted.”

That seemed reasonable, but she hated how he constantly pulled the Ministry out of his hat every time he wanted something. She was sure that Yaxley, like Dolohov was a Death Eater, and that the longer she stayed with them, the closer she was to being turned over to Lord Voldemort himself.

In the car ride home, listening to the Red Hot Chilli Peppers croon on the top 40 station, she wondered if this too was a trap, would they use her letter somehow to track The Order down? Neither of them had asked her about anything regarding the war, only about Lewis, Mary, and her embarrassing childhood letters.

She decided, sitting at the kitchen table with a parchment and her owl, to send a letter to Flourish and Blotts regarding a journal, as it would be the safest option. She penned a quick letter asking if they had the latest issue of Moste Potente Potions and gave it to her owl, watching the great horned bird soar out her open kitchen window and out of sight. 

She could see the forest from here, where Lewis was strangled, and wondered if it was safe even to keep all the doors unlocked. It had always been such a safe neighborhood. She turned over the idea of somehow alerting The Order that two known Death Eaters were hanging around her neighborhood and knew where she lived, but it was impossible to get word out without it being intercepted. Hermione was isolated and trapped, she tapped her finger on the table.

Her owl came back a few moments later.

 

_ “Miss Granger, _

_ I am sorry to say that we do not have this in stock. _

 

_ Love Always, _

_ Corban Yaxley.” _

 

She laid the small parchment down and looked at the owl she had been gifted by her parents in her first year. “Traitor.” She hissed.

There was a crack of apparation in her back yard but she didn’t bother to see who it was, instead smoothing the parchment down as if it would smooth her anxiety. Someone had been reading all of her mail and perhaps passing it on to someone else, had Voldemort been reading her mail? Impossible. A knock on the door. He wasn’t back until their fourth year. The letters in Lewis Catchepoole's house were from even before she had made friends at school. Who had enough sense to spy on Hermione Granger before she was Harry Potter’s best friend?

“Are you in there Granger girl?” It was Yaxley. Oh what an insufferable man, if he couldn’t give her but a few moments of reflection!

“Leave me alone.” She said, looking down at Yaxley’s neat handwriting.  _Love Always_. 

“Ministry business!” He insisted

She growled and opened up the door “What Ministry business involves harassing a student?”

“Whoever was in Catchepoole’s house may have found evidence of you.” Dolohov said staring off into her yard, trying to find something in the late afternoon sun. “We’re going to set up some warding in case he decides to come back.” 

Dolohov brandished his wand and Hermione shrunk back into the kitchen further, grabbing her wand. He was going to try and kill her again. He was going to finish the job. This time she’d be ready, this time would be different. A shiver ran over her body.

“Get out.” She hissed “Get  _ out _ .”

Yaxley had his wand drawn in an instant. “Drawing a wand on an auror is a crime, little girl. Put the wand away. We’re here to prote-”

“Like hell you are!” She shrieked “He tried to kill me! He cursed me at the Ministry of Magic!”

“Oh come off it.” Dolohov barked “I cursed anything that moved in the Department of Mysteries, you were caught in the crossfire, and a student shouldn’t have even _been_ _there_.” 

It stung not only to realize that he barely remembered almost killing her, but it wasn’t even intentional. Her life hung by a thread for the few days as she recovered and he didn’t even care. She was nothing to Antonin Dolohov, but she could never forget him.

“Listen, Granger, we’re here on Ministry business, okay?” Yaxley said taking a step across the kitchen while sheathing his wand “Any other business we may have with one another has nothing to do with today.”

“You can’t just  _ turn _ being a Death Eater off.” She backed into the wall and Yaxley put his hand on her wand, lowering it.

“If we wanted to kill you, little girl, you’d be dead, this isn’t about you.” Dolohov crossed his arms, annoyed in her doorway.

Hermione realized she was shaking, with rage, with fear, with indignation. 

Yaxley shot Antonin a dirty look over his shoulder. “Go outside and set up the wards.”

Dolohov rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him. 

“If you can’t trust him,” Yaxley said quietly, he was just a few feet from her face now, she could see the weave on his Italian suit. “Just trust me, yeah? For a little bit. I’ll take a wand oath, or an unbreakable vow, anything you want little lady, that I won’t harm you  _ ever _ not just for this case, for the rest of all time.”

Hermione studied his muggle tie, a red one today with a paisley pattern. “A wand oath.” She said quietly.

“In exchange,” Yaxley said so quietly that the hum of the ceiling fan running in the living room almost drowned it out “You must cooperate for the rest of this case.”

Hermione realized what a loaded oath that would be, but Yaxley was close enough to do whatever he wanted with her, so she held her wand up “An oath then.”

He held his wand up with a grin. “I, Corban Yaxley, do swear that no harm will come to Hermione Granger.” Two white lights shot from the tip of his wand and wrapped around her wrist, squeezing briefly before disappearing.

“I, Hermione Granger, do swear to cooperate with Corban Yaxley.” Another two lights shot from her wand and wrapped around his wrist.

He tapped their wands together and gave her another smile before stepping back away from her. “We’ll be in touch Hermione Granger.”

The house was glowing an eerie green from the wards. She wondered if this is what the killing curse looked like. The green faded as Yaxley stepped outside and was replaced by a brilliant purple. She wondered, briefly, if she had made a deal with the devil, and if that, briefly, was what made her heart race.


	3. Written in Blood

It was a week later, on a Saturday, while Hermione was curled up around a book on wards that she had bought but never read, that a visitor came. 

Her parents were out on their usual date night, leaving her alone in her bedroom on the second floor. The telly was playing the news downstairs, the muffled announcer’s voice wafted up to her when she felt the brush of magic. She was always more sensitive to this kind of stuff, and wondered if it was just Crookshanks messing with the wards.

She sat up in her bed and pulled aside the curtains to inspect the lawn, she could see the faint glow of the wards, like someone was holding a flashlight in the azaleas, the wards were glowing a soft periwinkle blue. It seemed someone was constantly leaning against it, gently, maybe a cat. He was the only thing that could interact with the wards.

She opened her window and stuck her head out, squinting into the darkness trying to find her orange furball. “Crooks!” She hissed into the cold night air “Crooks!”

A questioning meow answered and something butted against her leg. Hermione turned to see her shaggy cat staring back at her on top of her duvet. The only other magical creature here was the owl, and she knew she had locked the spying bird into it’s cage.

Suddenly lightning struck, the wards lit up a brilliant white. Whoever was messing with the warding ran out of patience. Hermione slammed her window shut and fumbled around her pillow for her wand and then she felt a swell of magic, the windows rattled as the wards fell and she stumbled out of her bedroom and down the stairs. The newscaster droning on about the weather as she went to find her purse.

_ It’s like a portkey of sorts _ . She dumped her small leather pouch out, books, coins,  _ lumos _ , more garbage and then, white vellum, black text, ministry of magic seal,  _ Corban Yaxley _ .

Before she could grab it the windows in the kitchen blew in with a deafening bang and she was yanked to the floor, shielded from the glass by someone twice her size. She rolled over, pointing her wand at the person who was on top of her and smashed her wandtip into their nose.

“Stu-” strong hands,  _ warm hands, _ a curse lit up the kitchen and her eyes grew wide, fear made her breath stop in her throat. His face faded as the curse did:  _ Dolohov _ .

The house seemed to shake as thunder rolled over them and he closed his eyes briefly. She turned her head, moving his hand from her mouth and saw Yaxley’s card, just out of arm’s reach. He had promised, he had  _ promised _ .

“Don’t.” He hissed, seeing what she had seen “Don’t.”

Suddenly everything glowed red, then white, like a fourth of july show that reflected off the broken glass on the floor. She ignored him, reaching her arm out broken glass digging into her skin, grabbing Yaxley’s card. She felt the magic flow from her fingertips as the card glowed and then a very sweaty and feral looking Corban Yaxley appeared with his wand at the ready in her kitchen.

“Cr-where am I?”

He was oath bound. “Help me!” She shrieked from underneath Dolohov.

“What do you think we’re doing you stupid bint?” Yaxley put up a shielding charm “Who do you think was in your garden?” A curse died mid air and took out her faucet with it.

Water erupted from where the sink used to be, raining down over everyone and Yaxley wiped the water away from his face with a sleeve as he watched something outside in the garden. A snap of thunder and then “Gone.”

Dolohov got to his knees first, rubbing his hands on his jeans, his hair sticking to his face. He looked away from her and up to Yaxley who was now soaked. 

Her arm was on fire, glass embedded along the length, and she had never felt more sheepish. “Come on, girl.” Dolohov said “Let me see your arm.”

She sat up, her white pajamas now stuck to her body, her hair slick from the water that was now flooding the kitchen, blood was running down her arm in wet rivulets, dripping off her fingers onto the floor.

Antonin Dolohov, her would-be murderer, was exceedingly patient when picking glass out of her arm, with a tweezer and a paper towel he plucked even the smallest of shards out of her skin while Yaxley paced outside of the bathroom. Yaxley had come upstairs halfway through the long process of healing her arm after he had fixed her kitchen.

“Do you-” inhale as a slice of glass was extracted from her forearm “Do you think that they knew?”   


“Knew what?” Yaxley asked, now dry, his hair a bit fluffier from the drying charm. He continued to pace out of sight.

“That my parents would be out tonight. It’s the third Saturday of the month, they always have date nights on the third Saturday.” She said “Ow!” 

“I told you not to do it, you reached for it anyways.” Dolohov’s Russian accent rumbled through her in the small bathroom, she fidgeted, blood dripped off of her arm and onto his jeans.

“It’s possible.” Yaxley said stopping in the light from the bathroom, watching the two of them carefully “They knew the wardings already to drop them without sounding the alarms.”

She flinched and Dolohov squeezed onto her arm tighter to hold her still, there would be bruising. “I can’t accio the pieces out, it would only make it worse.” He hummed, bent over and getting a particularly large piece out near her wrist.

“If the alarms weren’t sounded, how did you know to come?”

“A report crossed my desk, Improper Use of Magic, there was a report here that an underage witch or wizard used a  _ Lumos _ charm.” Yaxley handed her a scroll. “Unfortunately, it was a false alarm, the witch in question had two Ministry Officials with her at the time.”

“That’s a lie. Ouch!” An inch worth of glass slid out of her skin followed by a stream of blood.

“Would you rather be expelled?” Yaxley said as she took the scroll with her free arm.

“No, of course not. I was trying-” A cool wave of magic blew over her and her arm stopped hurting. There was another  _ evanesco _ and she heard the glass fall into the dust bin. “I was trying to call for help.”

“No need, love, help is always here when you need it.” Yaxley yawned and looked down the hall.

She tried to stifle her own yawn, adrenaline had left her with nothing but tiredness. “Who is Lewis Catchepoole anyways?”

“Who is Hermione Granger to be so interesting to Lewis Catchepoole?” Yaxley asked.

“Tea?” She offered, and, realizing that Dolohov still had her arm, stood up quickly only to stumble over her own two feet.

Dolohov caught her. “Blood replenishing potion?” He offered.

She shook him off and walked, albeit carefully, to the kitchen to put the kettle on. She tried to ignore the fact that Dolohov followed her rather closely on her trip down the stairs, and when she leaned forward too much as the blood rushed to her head, she ignored that he pulled her back.

“To put it simply,” Yaxley said loading his tea up with sugar “Lewis is a nobody.”

“A nobody?” Hermione sat down across from him, pouring her own tea after a few moments “A nobody requires the Head of the DMLE to snoop around my neighborhood after dark?”

“Lewis is nobody. Nobody at all, he has no friends, no relations, no record, but yet, when his death came across our desk, a  _ somebody _ asked us to hurry it along.” Yaxley took a sip of his tea, frowned, and put another cube of sugar in. “If a  _ somebody _ hadn’t insisted we expedite the case, we probably would have never noticed Lewis Catchepoole.”

“But somebody did.” She supplied, watching Dolohov stir his tea despite putting nothing in it. “And so you’re here.”

“Somebody did, and it seems like more  _ somebodies _ are trying to make sure that we don’t make Lewis Catchepoole’s death into anything more than an unfortunate accident in the woods behind your house Hermione Granger.” Yaxley sipped his tea again and seemed pleased.

“Lewis Catchepoole had everything on you, you know.” Dolohov continued “Not just letters, but news stories as well. We found evidence of no one but you there.”

She frowned and studied the tea leaves that had sunk to the bottom of her cup. “Don’t you think it’s strange?”

“Of course we think it’s strange, why else would we be in a muggleborn’s house at eleven on a Saturday night.” Yaxley groused.

“This man has been stalking me for years, but he’s never spoken to me, what was he waiting for? If he was some sort of...predator, don’t you think he would have made a move? Anything? What about when I was in line with him at Tesco last summer?”

Dolohov shrugged “Whoever he was, he wasn’t the only person interested in you, someone else saw all those papers, someone else found something in that house.”

“What, though? What could it have been?” Hermione asked, cupping her mug, feeling the warmth seep in through her fingers. She didn’t want to mention The Order, or Dumbledore’s Army, or anything, so she kept quiet. The possibilities ran through her mind regardless.

“If…” Dolohov started and went quiet again, thinning his mouth as he stared at the wall for a moment “If you’re amenable, girl, we can place stronger wards on the house.”

“We?” She asked, gripping her wand that was near her tea spoon.   


“To make stronger wards around homes it must be cast...by one of the bloodline.” Dolohov offered tentatively “Like you.”

“Oh!” She felt stupid now “Yes, I read that in the book...I was reading.” She finished lamely. “Let’s go.” Her face was red and she tried to hide it by heading upstairs to grab the book she had on wards.

She came outside to the back patio with the book she had been reading and Yaxley plucked it out of her hand and read the spine “Essentials for Warding Practice, volume one. Oh, little lady, it’s not like you have one of the Ministry’s top curse breakers sitting in your kitchen.”

She looked at Dolohov who still had his teacup in his hand looking out over the dark garden. He sipped his cold tea “The wards we’ll be doing won’t be in that book. Come.”

The grass was wet underneath her feet, and she wished she was wearing more than just a small white t-shirt and shorts as she followed Antonin Dolohov across the garden to the back wall, where the azelea’s met the fence. “Reach out and touch the existing wards to get a feel for them first.”

She turned back to see Yaxley leaning against her siding flipping through the book he confiscated. “Okay.”

The wards glowed a smoky green as she reached her hand out, glowing just inches away from her fingertips. It was a foreign magic, it felt sticky on her skin and she looked up at Dolohov who was watching her. “It’s a shielding spell, with a bit of an attraction charm so that curses will be drawn into it instead of rebounding, rebounding curses takes a great deal more energy than absorbing them, absorbing curses can add to the energy of the wards.”

She nodded and withdrew her hand, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward “Keep going, I didn’t erect only one.”

Her hand slid easily through the green wards, a ripple like water emanating from around her wrist and she hit the next wards, a royal purple that seemed to light up when her fingers got near, it felt cold “Defensive wards, and a freezing charm, to slow the curses down and hopefully protect the first layer. The last layer, the strongest one, fell, wards are best in triads.”

“Triads.” Hermione repeated, she could feel Dolohov’s magic coursing through the wards “Why?”

“Arithmancy, also if you erect anymore, they’ll collapse.” Dolohov smiled “In threes the wards will feed off of one another and keep each other strong, in fours, one end of the warding, either the outside or the inside will consume more power, and will be weak at one end, two is just...not as strong. Here.” He handed her a vial, she could only make out there was liquid in it by the faint glow her hand was producing through the wards. “This is yours.”

She withdrew her hand and there was darkness. Dolohov waved his hand and there was a dim light between them. “On the ground girl.”

She froze at the order, a million bad scenarios running through her head, each one ending in her dead. Dolohov seemed to sense her unease and got to his knees first “Draw magic from the earth to create a ward that will sustain itself without your magic.”

She got to her knees beside him and smoothed out her shorts, the wards began to glow softly in response to their magic, a green and purple that gave him almost an otherworldly appearance.

He hummed before speaking, looking at her curiously “Dip your index finger in your blood, and in the grass draw a cross.”

“What’s the incantation?”   


“In blood wards, there is no incantation. Do as I tell you.”

She flushed, embarrassed that she didn’t know such a basic fact and drew her finger through the grass, and crossed a line she couldn’t see. Dolohov didn’t speak, and nothing happened, she looked at him for further instruction. Had she failed?

“Do-”

“Wait.”

Still nothing, her heart was beating fast, she felt her face grow hot, maybe she drew the cross wrong? Way to go Hermione, she chastised, couldn’t even draw an x on the ground.

“Should I t-” She yelped as the ground began to glow around her, a red wheel that grew out from underneath her and seemed to stretch in all directions, it looked like a spiderweb of fire and reached far out into the darkness, glowing brighter and brighter before evaporating up into the night air.

“Impressive!” Yaxley called from the porch.

“The earth knows your intent, you just have to give an offering.” Dolohov said standing up “That’s how blood magic works.”

He offered a hand to her and she looked up at him cautiously, deciding not to take it, wiping the blood on her shorts, and she stood.

Dolohov dropped his hand. “This should keep intruders out temporarily, a triad involving blood magic should be more than enough for any  _ somebodies _ .” 

“Can you tell me why you’re helping me? A mudblood?” She asked halfway back to the patio.

Dolohov looked at her, the porch light glittered in his eyes. “That is for me to know.” 

“You tried to kill me two months ago. What changed? How can I trust you?”

“You can’t.”   


“Yaxley gave me an oath, give me an oath too.”   


“Yaxley is an idiot, and you are in no place to make demands.”   


“Hey!” Yaxley called, shutting the book “I heard that.”

“Who told you to expedite this murder?” She crossed her arms, trying to hide how nervous she was, how cold she was.

A warming charm fell over her “Somebody.” Yaxley supplied coming over to the two of them.

“What am I supposed to do here? I can’t contact anyone but you two, I can’t stay safe because it’s illegal to use my wand. I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be on the lookout for!”

“Then I guess, little girl, you’re going to have to trust us until we figure out what is going on in Lacock, yeah?” Dolohov replied coolly.

“Quit provoking her Tonin.” Yaxley interrupted the face off “Little lady, you’re-”   


“Stop calling me that!” She snapped “I’m not little, this isn’t some...old American movie, it’s Hermione, just call me Hermione, okay?”   


Yaxley and Dolohov shared a look, Yaxley spoke again “Ok, Hermione, we’re going to stick around for a bit longer, then we’re leaving. Whoever was here might try to come back and finish what they started.”

“You can leave.” She said heading towards the house “I put up the blood wards, I’m completely protected, and I don’t want to see either of you again.” She gave them one final look before slamming the door.

She knew they didn’t leave before she heard a muffled “Way to go, Antonin.” as she cleaned up the tea cups left on the kitchen table. She didn’t want her parents to know she had company, and perhaps, if she woke up, this will have been a bad dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually my Antonin characterization is not so outgoing but in this story he's very antagonistic towards Hermione. 
> 
> I don't know how many people are fans of Midsomer Murders, but if you are, you know that there's going to be quite the body count.
> 
> Also triad foreshadowing ;)
> 
> Thank you for all the follows/kudos/comments so early on in the story, I'm not used to having so much attention!


	4. Down Among the Dead Men

An owl came from Harry and Ron the next day and she cursed them for writing so much down in the post. She didn’t know what owls were being screened, copied, and sent off into the ether and so Hermione dismissed the owl without any return post or treats. It was unnerving to realize that she had given so much away in the past, so many secrets travelled through owl post. If the Dark Lord had gotten his disgusting hands on any of them, then they all could have been dead by now. Why had she never thought about discretion? Why hadn't they?

The letter itself was brief, no one there had heard of a Lewis Catchepoole either, and they had not started homework but they had started meetings, and they were hoping Hermione would be able to join them in a few weeks before summer ended as an official inductee to The Order. She cringed at how lax the information was presented. These secrets could cost them the war. Hermione looked out over the back garden as she read, her parents gone to the Sunday market to pick up groceries for the week. Would she want to be an Order member? Of course she did, she reasoned, there was no reason not to help Harry win the war. They obviously needed more help than ever.

A knock on her door startled her. She knew who it was before she even answered. The two Ministry employees that made her life a living hell: Yaxley and Dolohov. However when she answered the door, two other people were standing there. Mad-Eye Moody and another person, a pudgy blonde man that looked disturbingly like Lewis Catchepoole.

“Hello Professor Moody,” She greeted cheerfully, trying not to look too closely at the man next to him.

“Hello Miss Granger, mind if we come in?” His gruff voice sounded like sandpaper.

“Yes, of course, sorry Professor,” She stepped aside and let them both inside, feeling a sense of dread pool in her stomach “Can I get either of you some tea?”

“Yes! Oh that would be wonderful.” The pudgy blonde clapped his hands together, but even as he spoke he wasn't looking at her, he was looking around her house.

“This isn’t a social call.” Moody said standing near the door and peeking back over his shoulder before he shut the door with his cane “Lewis, meet Hermione Granger, Hermione, meet Lewis, he’ll be your assigned Order member to watch over your family.”

A million thoughts came over at once but none of them made it out, she fished around her shorts for the card, Yaxley’s card. Vellum and Ink.

“I can see you’re afraid girl, but no need. Each muggleborn’s family has been assigned a guard to watch over them. We’ve noticed an unusual amount of magic in this area as of late and want to be on our toes. Constant Vigilance!” He barked.

“Constant Vigilance.” She repeated without thinking. “My parents aren’t home right now, would you like to wait? I don’t think they would believe me if I had some wizard staying here, it mi-”

“Oh no.” Lewis said with a smile, focusing on her for just the briefest of seconds “I won’t be staying here, I will just be putting some wards on the house to be alerted if anything...or anyone comes to visit.”

“Of course, of course.” She nodded. “I’d love to help.”

A few plans came to mind, but every plan needed to have a way to keep whoever this was Lewis Catchepoole or an imposter away from the wardings that had been erected over her property last night. It was powerful magic, and she was sure that if The Order had found out she was doing blood magic in her spare time, they’d crucify her. Hermione looked over at Mad-Eye nervously before turning to go back into the kitchen. What if Yaxley and Dolohov had been lying about Lewis’ death to get her to accept them? It sounded like something they would do.

“Right, I have better things to do than babysit you lot.” Mad-eye said “Erect the wards and then you’re due back at headquarters Lewis.”

Mad-eye disapparated from her house, rattling the walls as he left. She watched a family picture fall and just barely caught it. Lewis watched her unmoving as she rehung the photo. “What house were you in Mr. Lewis?”

“Oh, just Lewis please, and I’d like to think it’s obvious that I’m a Ravenclaw.” He straightened his outfit a little more as if to claim some house pride. “Bookish and Brave!”

Could they have fabricated the photo too? Hermione let her fingers linger on the picture frame. “Do you live near here?”

“I live over in Bristol.” He said, and when she didn't respond he continued. “Let’s go erect those wards, eh? Shouldn’t take too long, just an alarm, you know, to alert The Order.”

He withdrew his wand and headed back through the house. Just an alarm ward? That didn’t seem right. Shouldn’t they be concerned about protection as well as alerting The Order? “You get started without me Lewis, I’ll just be using the loo.”

She looked down over the garden from her bedroom to see Lewis facing the house and beginning the wand motions for a simple alarm ward. It was in her book that she had read fastidiously today so she wouldn’t make any more slip ups with Dolohov. It would alert a charmed object of anyone going through the wards. He wouldn’t find the wards that covered the property as long as he focused on the house. She frowned. Lewis was dead, wasn’t he?

That dead man was testing his own wards by going in and out of the back door, a bell in his hand began to ding each time he passed through the threshold. “Miss Granger!” He shouted, there was a dinging of the bell.

She moved away from the window and rushed down the stairs “All done?”

“Yes, yes of course. The Order will be keeping a watch on the house to make sure nothing happens. You’re safe with us Miss Granger.” Lewis held out his hand and grabbed hers tightly “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to our best and brightest!”

“Yes.” She agreed, wincing. “Yes.”

“I best be off, Miss Granger.” He gave her a wave and disapparated much in the way Mad-Eye did, knocking portraits off the walls. The photo of her parents and her crashed and shattered before she could catch it.

Why did she have a sinking feeling that Mad-Eye and Lewis had just put her in a prison? She looked at her front door. All her movements in and out of this house were going to be monitored. Did Lewis Catchepoole really die?

Yaxley had told her initially that he had taken the body to the muggle Death Man. Her investigation on Lewis would have to begin there. Hermione grabbed her bag and passed through the threshold of her house, feeling a sickly magic pass over her. She had no car, no idea what a “death man” was or where he was located, and no one she could trust.

Except one.

Hermione walked down the street a ways and as she passed the third house down she pulled out a card. She held it in both hands and closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of magic course through her and there was a crack of apparition. Corban Yaxley in a white t-shirt and some jeans appeared before her, wand drawn. She gave him a sheepish smile and began to ask him questions, starting with the location of the muggle death man, and an apology for what she had said last time.

* * *

 

“Well, I am always happy to cooperate with law enforcement.” The death man, an older gentleman, a coroner in Chippenham, pulled back the sheet “Sergeant Yaxley told us that our John Doe was a protected case, although, I believe someone came looking for him recently, they had a picture of him and all.”

“You didn’t tell them?” Hermione asked, taking a step back from the corpse of Lewis Catchepoole, a man she had been speaking to hours prior. It was him. He was dead.

“Oh no, according to Sergeant Yaxley, this is a military matter, and thus the police who visited...well I guess it just wasn’t their business, was it?” The coroner gave her a wink “Well, not much has changed since we’ve last spoken, the lab found some strange plants in his system valerian, wormwood, and asphodel? I assume some kind of new age baloney that everyone is into lately, and of course his cause of death was strangulation, a thin wire, piano perhaps? It didn’t cut the skin, so not a lot of force was applied.” The coroner traced a bruise that was on his neck with a gloved finger “Who knows really, no one has come to claim the body yet except your Sergeant.”

“Who came looking?” Hermione asked “Can you describe them?”

“Some London police, oh, I don’t remember much about them, a woman and a man.” The coroner waved her question off.

“She’s a consultant on this case...Robert, she needs as much information as you can remember.” Yaxley warned.

“I’d give you more information if I had any, but I never met them, my secretary met with them first and turned them away right quick.” Robert said and looked at Hermione who nodded before he pulled up the sheet “Should I dispose of the body Sergeant?”

“No, I think we’ll have need of it yet.” Hermione answered “You can keep it longer, right?”

“Indefinitely, of course, anything for our military.” Robert gave a salute “You know I was in the navy right?”

“Of course, of course.” Yaxley laughed nervously, it seemed like he didn’t have much of a clue what the Navy was “We’ll question your secretary and be on our way then, yeah?”

“Ask away! No one is going to stop you, hope to see you and your consultant again, Sergeant!”

The secretary was a petite thing who was drumming her nails on the desk while flipping through some entertainment rag. “No one has come here looking for a Mister Lewis Catchepoole. I don’t think anyone has been here for the past few days, dreadfully boring.” She said and flipped another page “Why?”

Dolohov was reading a magazine in the waiting room and gave the two of them a look that signalled his impatience. “Right, sorry to bother you.” Hermione said and moved towards the door. The bell dinged to signal that she had opened it, she tensed up, thinking of her wards at home. She had to break them, but how could you break wards without magic?

“Memory modification.” Dolohov said as they walked through the parking lot, pulling her from her thoughts. “A damn good one, it was so precise I missed it the first time.”

“If _that_ was Lewis Catchepoole, then who was in my house?” Hermione asked as they stopped in front of the car, a sedan Yaxley had found, she had left the explanation at that.

“No one followed us here that I know of.” Yaxley said leaning against the trunk “So there must be a different reason to put the alarm wards around the house and around the house only.”

She ruminated over everything the coroner had said while a summer breeze blew through the nearly empty parking lot. Valerian, asphodel, wormwood. All those things put together sounded like potions ingredients. It clicked. “Sleeping draught?”

“You want some?” Yaxley asked incredulously.

“Asphodel, valerian, wormwood.” She enunciated each word carefully “They’re the main ingredients of the sleeping draught.”

“And a half dozen other potions.” Dolohov pointed out.

“You know that valerian is the main component of at least a dozen sleeping potions.” She retorted “Don’t play dumb with me Dolohov.”

“How did the muggles know that kind of stuff anyways?” Yaxley asked hoping to stave off another argument. “Only a potion’s master would be able to tell the components of a brewed potion.”

“They just analyzed the contents of his stomach, without any knowledge of potioneering, it’s just plants to them.” Hermione looked back at the police station, suddenly uncomfortable that she was with Dolohov again. She trusted Yaxley, but Yaxley was a package deal. You couldn’t get one without the other.

Dolohov however, caught her staring at him and smirked. “Return home, for now, and we’ll come later and dispose of the wards. Whoever is pretending to be Lewis wants to know when you’re home and when you’re not.”

“Which means he wants me, or something I have.” Hermione mused, drawing her attention away from Dolohov to the wrinkles on his white shirt. He was thin but muscular, it was apparent through the black cotton.

“Exactly.”  Yaxley said and opened the door for her “Your chariot awaits.”

They dropped her off a block away from home, and Hermione felt all eyes on her as she rushed to her door. Each house seemed to be watching, and Hermione had never felt more isolated. Panic seeped in as her sandals hit the pavement, the jelly sandals that Dolohov had bought her weeks before.

She kept one hand in her pocket and rubbed the vellum business card between her finger and thumb, just in case, she reasoned, because he’s oathbound.

* * *

 

She was woken by a soft breeze of magic, and she recognized it as Dolohov’s, it was a cold magic, like mint tea. She rolled over towards her clock and the red numbers told her it was entirely too late for her to be up, or anyone for that matter. 3:16.

Hermione dragged herself out of bed, half of it coming with her as she sleepily stumbled towards her door, wand in hand. What on earth were they doing here? She stopped at her door to see the wards flickering and then fading. “Come out then.” Yaxley said quietly “Lewis is not that good with this kind of stuff. Well, not compared to us.”

She opened the door but didn’t cross the threshold, instead she leaned against the open door and surveyed at the two men on her front porch. The yellow porch light made the three of them look almost ghostly. “Are you sure no one saw?” She asked trying to see if any of the houses were watching. It _felt_ like it.

“Even if they saw us, then what? Ministry business, yeah?” Yaxley said leaning against the railing for the stairs. “Then they’d have to explain what _they_ were doing watching some underage girl’s house.”

She made a moue of annoyance, but Yaxley continued “Unless you know why they have a reason to watch your house?”

Her eyes slid to Dolohov who was watching her, arms crossed, next to Yaxley. How much could she tell them? “They said…” She paused, trying to figure out the vaguest way to tell them “They said that it was for my protection, muggleborn protection against _you_.”

“Who is they?” Yaxley asked.

She shook her head, and he seemed to understand. Dolohov did too.

“Dumbledore’s people, I suppose.” Dolohov supplied “The same people that sent you to the Ministry that night. Children.”

“Who cursed those children Dolohov?” She snapped

“You shouldn’t have been there! Curses don’t just magically avoid people under eighteen.” He replied, a little louder than she was comfortable with, her parents were just upstairs. A dog started barking and Yaxley looked over his shoulder.

“Children.” Yaxley warned.

Dolohov huffed and turned his head away from her.

“Are you at wand oath too, Hermione?” Yaxley asked quietly this time “Can you tell us who is watching you?”

She shook her head. “I know you’re under oath to me, Yaxley, but Dolohov isn’t, and while you promised not to harm me, I can’t guarantee you won’t harm others.”

Yaxley seemed put out by this, but didn’t press the issue. She looked down at her bare feet, trying to think of a way to fill the silence.

“This Lewis thing.” Dolohov offered, a bit quieter this time, his temper in check “The reason we’re so interested is because many people seem to _be_ Lewis.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, looking back up at him.

“Two Lewis Catchepoole’s entered the Ministry a week before the actual Lewis Catchepoole turned up dead.” Dolohov said “And now someone is impersonating him. The only photo we have of him says he's a Hufflepuff, but you said he thought he was a Ravenclaw from Bristol, right?”

Hermione nodded.

“Why is it so many people want to be this nobody?” Dolohov asked “Why is it so many _somebodies_ want this nobody to be swept under the rug? And why did the _real_ Lewis Catchepoole, or whoever was living at his mum’s have an obsession with Hermione Granger?”

She shivered and Yaxley took his sports coat off, slinging it around her shoulders. She tried to ignore the gesture, but it was hard. She looked up at him gratefully and pulled the fabric tighter around her body.

“Who is the somebody?” Hermione asked “Who should I look out for?”

“For one,” Yaxley said beside her “Chief of Aurory, Kingsley Shacklebolt.”

Her fear must have been written on her face because Dolohov gave her a wry smile “I see you know him.”

Had she given away his cover? Were they trying to fleece her for information? She recoiled, horrified, and stumbled over the threshold back into her house, Dolohov caught her wrist and pulled her outside onto the porch with the two of them. “Relax.”

“You cannot. Please.” She ripped her wrist from his hand. They would turn this over to the Dark Lord for sure. “Please, I di-”

“I know this is going to be hard to believe, but it is in all of our best interests, that _neither_ of our people figure out what is going on here.” Dolohov said, suddenly focused on some lint on his pants. “So trust me, and trust us.”

She bit her lip and looked away from both of the men, inhaling Yaxley’s scent of fresh laundry and some kind of expensive cologne. She stared hard into the darkness of her neighbor’s porch.

“They want me to leave in a few weeks, you understand right?”

“No.” Dolohov replied “I don’t understand any reason to drag a fifteen year old girl into a war that started before she was born.”

“I’m not exactly fifteen either.” She said looking back at the two of them. “I’ll be eighteen in September, due to _reasons_.”

Yaxley let out a breath he was holding. “So we have a few weeks then to get to the bottom of this.”

“We only have a few hours before _Lewis_ gets back here and finds his wards gone.” Dolohov dragged his name out with distaste.

“What if…” Hermione yawned “What if there was a ward that was still here, but didn’t work? It only took him a few minutes.”

There was a rustling in the bushes and Yaxley instinctively pushed her behind him, Dolohov stepped in front of the two of them, wand brandished.

“Go inside, Hermione.” Yaxley muttered.

She shook her head “I’m good at defensive spells.”

“ _Lumos_.” Dolohov said and began to creep towards the bushes.

"Hermione,  _inside_." Yaxley insisted.

A squirrel popped out and darted across the street. The three of them relaxed. “Merlin.” Dolohov said and turned back to the two of them extinguishing his wand.

“We’ll erect some faux-wards for tomorrow, go to bed Hermione.” Yaxley nudged her inside. “If you need me, you have my card.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She said and stepped over the threshold “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” They said in unison and she shut the door.

She slung the coat over her desk chair and slid back into bed next to Crookshanks who was purring contentedly now that she was back. She thought how stupid the three of them must have felt for getting spooked by a squirrel. She pet Crookshanks a few times, the purring lulling her into a sleep. How strange, she thought, for a squirrel to be up so late at night. Mint magic washed over the house.

How strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Current word count is hovering around 25,000 so a lot more of this story is written.
> 
> Thank you so much everyone for your reviews, I hope that even though it's confusing starting out that the chapters slowly piece together the confusing bits from the opening.


	5. Sauce for the Goose

Two days later the muggle death man showed up dead, and the body of Lewis Catchepoole went missing from the morgue. She was standing at the edge of the police line, next to Dolohov as Yaxley spoke with the investigating officers. They had dragged her out of her house at around ten in the morning, citing a need for her presence, but of course, there was just a need for a muggle who could explain muggle terms, and that was almost always Hermione.

“We should have cremated him when we had the chance.” She said with a frown “Whoever has been impersonating Lewis now has a lifetime supply of Lewis to use in polyjuice.”

Yaxley lifted the police tape and Hermione ducked underneath it. They were in a field just outside of Chippenham, one hundred yards away from the road. He was discovered by a passing motorist in the early dawn hours. Dolohov followed. 

“Piano wire, strangled.” A police officer said pulling back the white blanket they were using to cover the body. He was still in a lab coat and scrubs, which implied he was taken right out of the morgue, latex gloves still on his hands, a purple ring went around his neck.

“Why?” Hermione asked, looking down at the corpse.

The police officer shook his head “There’s no telling with killers, miss, sometimes there  _ isn’t _ really a why.”

“Was anything else missing from the morgue?” She asked, tearing her eyes away from the dead ones that were staring lifelessly up into the sky.

“Just that one body, some military case, very hush hush.” The police officer said “Even the secretary didn’t know about it.

“Clumsy.” Yaxley said crouching down next to the corpse, using a pen to tilt the coroner’s head to the side, the discoloration from the bruise went up underneath his ear and disappeared into the hairline. “This whole thing is a mess.”

“Do you have an estimated time of death?” She asked the police officer who was shaking his head.

“Sometime last night, he was already wet when we found him, so he must have been out here all night. The secretary doesn’t remember seeing him leave so we assume he was at work late.”

Hermione shook her head. Another obliviation probably, it was so obvious. “Clumsy, alright.”

“Right, and what department were you lot from again?” The officer said “Will you be taking the case from-” The officer suddenly fell silent and his eyes went glassy.

“Let’s go.” Dolohov said, concentrating on the officer across from them. “There’s nothing here for us.”

“Wait.” Hermione said, pointing at the body. “Yaxley, do you see that?”

“See what?” He said, squinting at the corpse as if he could see more despite being only two feet away from the body.

She crouched down next to him and pointed at the back of his head, there was a bloody patch of skin at the base of his neck. “Hair. He’s missing a huge clump of hair.”

“I see said the blind man.” Yaxley said “Good work, love.”

She ducked under the police tape first, followed by the two men and shuddered. She didn’t like being so close to a corpse. “More polyjuice, more memory modification charms.”

“If they wanted to steal the body, the muggle death man was just that, a muggle, why not modify his memory too?” Dolohov asked as they walked back to the car.

“Maybe he had spent too much time around the body? Too much to erase?” Hermione asked aloud.

“The memory modification on the secretary the other day, it was near perfect.” Dolohov shook his head “If the same person had done it both times, it wouldn’t be a problem.” He opened the door for her and his eyes widened at something behind her.

Suddenly she was shoved violently into the back seat of the car and both men leaned against the door. “Kingsley! Fancy seeing you at a muggle murder scene.” Yaxley said loudly, Hermione’s heart stopped in her chest, sliding down into the crack between the front and back seats. Not here! Not now! Not with them!

“Well, someone used an unforgivable on a muggle here, and we just thought we’d come check it out, right Nymphadora?” Kingsley’s voice was loud, even through the car. “It wasn’t head of the DMLE, was it?”

She heard Yaxley curse under his breath and she covered her mouth in case her breathing was too loud “Kingsley, it’d be strange if I reported all the times I’ve gotten little slips of paper on my desk about unforgivables being used by my Chief of Aurory, so it’s a little strange to see my Chief of Aurory forget all those times I didn’t report him.”

“Dolohov, I see you’re still skulking around Wiltshire.” Tonks said cheerfully.

“Black.” He said briefly.

“So,” Kingsley drew out the word. Hermione felt the back of the car sink down as someone leaned on the trunk. “What does the Ministry of Magic need to know about this murder?”

“There were reports that it was vampiric due to the large amount of blood loss and the puncture wounds on the neck.” Dolohov said, irritation clear in his voice “However there was only one puncture wound, and not nearly enough blood loss to be vampiric, a waste of time.”

“False alarm, the worst.” Tonks said “Alright Kings, I told you this was a waste.”

There was a low hum before the back of the car lifted “Just remember Corban, you’re not above the law.”

Yaxley laughed, it was a hollow sound “I don’t need to be above the law, I just need to be the law, don’t forget it Kingsley.”

The passenger door open and Hermione shut her eyes, afraid that even looking would give her away. What would Kingsley think when he saw her with two known Death Eaters? “Don’t move.” It was Dolohov.

The other door opened and the car started to ding to alert them that the keys were in the ignition. “Alright there, love?” Yaxley asked, starting the car “We’re going to head over to Corsham.”

She didn’t respond. Her face buried in her hands, the shame of almost being caught burned, but the shame of thinking she could get caught with the wrong people by people who, for all intents and purposes were on her side made her chest ache. Yaxley put on some old rock n roll and Hermione tried to steady her breathing, tried to push down her conscience and reminded herself that for some reason Dolohov and Yaxley were on her side, and right now, that was the only side she could trust.

Yaxley and Dolohov, after all, didn't have a dead man working with them.

* * *

 

In the back of a small pub on the edges of Corsham, Hermione pushed a slice of chocolate mousse pie around a plate as Yaxley drank a pint across from her. “I don’t think that these murders are done by a muggle, or even a muggleborn. Whoever killed the coroner forgot that they keep records of the bodies, so despite the memory modification, despite the murder, the police know a body went missing.”

“How?” Yaxley asked.

“Exactly.” Hermione pointed at him with a fork “How did the police know about a body no one else remembered? How did they know about a  _ military matter _ that you made everyone keep hush hush? Records.”

“There were records, I burnt them.” Yaxley said, taking the fork from her and cutting a slice of her pie “Remember, Tonin?”

“Yeah, but the girl is right, how did that policeman know about the military matter?” Dolohov said looking out the stained glass window as if someone was peering through it and eavesdropping. “No one knew, but the death man, and now he’s dead.”

“A pureblood wizard wouldn’t know this, but there’s a new thing muggles have called a computer.” Hermione said “Where they store the records, like a television...sort of. You can’t burn those records, they’re in the machine.”

“A record machine?” Yaxley’s eyebrows rose “Can muggles put burnt records in the television?”

“Sort of.” Hermione insisted “They’re more complicated than the television. However any muggle could look at this computer and see what went missing from the morgue, it’s all in the machine. No one burnt those records.” 

“So a wizard killed the death man?” Yaxley said “But it’s so sloppy! A memory modification charm, or a potion, not a piano wire.”

“A wizard is most likely. A wizard who wants it to look like muggles.” Hermione nodded “A wizard who doesn’t want the Ministry involved, because the DMLE would investigate a wizarding death, but not a muggle one. Maybe...hmm” She paused and stared at the bubbles rising in Yaxley’s pint “Maybe that’s why Lewis Catchepoole was murdered in the same way, in a muggle way, to keep the DMLE out of it.”

“The DMLE investigates  _ all _ murders of magical folk, despite the cause of death, not everyone is cursed, or poisoned, or something fantastical.” Dolohov pointed out, stirring the whisky rocks in his glass “Your theory falls apart there.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier, Dolohov, to blame muggles and move on? I’m sure that was your first instinct on the case.” Hermione said before finally taking a bite of her mousse pie. “Everything about these two murders is sloppy, you wouldn’t look twice.”

“Since when have you become a detective, Hermione?” Yaxley asked, sitting back and nursing his pint.

“Well,” She said, taking another bite of pie and giving him a shy smile. “I’m currently a consultant on a military matter.”

“Special consultant.” Yaxley said “Would you like a glass of wine love?”

“I shouldn’t.” She protested. Wine went to her head, and she shouldn't drink with them.

And yet a bottle of wine was on their table a few minutes later courtesy of the Ministry of Magic. And yet she took a polite sip when Yaxley raised his glass in cheers. And yet, her glass was full, empty, and full again with a fruity white wine that made her head swim and her body warm.

* * *

 

She had no idea how she got in this situation, how the wine bottle had gotten empty, how Yaxley kept making her laugh. Yaxley was the kind of person you felt you have always known, his easygoing personality kept the conversation going all by itself for hours. His good mood was contagious.

“Tell her!” Yaxley insisted while she nursed her third glass of wine and a basket of chips.

Dolohov shook his head and brought his empty glass of whisky to his mouth, trying to hide the smile that was playing at his lips. The sun had gone down and the pub was now crowded, they all had to lean close to hear each other speak. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell her. The  _ calling card _ is my invention, of course.” Yaxley winked at her and she snorted.

“Your _idea_ but not your invention.” Dolohov’s Russian accent was heavy, she wasn’t sure how much either of them had to drink. “My invention.”  
“The earlier prototypes didn’t really _warn_ the person being called when they were being called, and so while we were tailing a burglar who had hit a few houses here in Wiltshire, and-”  
“It was late.” Dolohov supplied. “It was _late_.”

“And so a very naked,  _ very _ soapy, Antonin Dolohov, showed up in a very nice sitting room of a little old lady who had just been robbed of all her jewelry.” Yaxley laughed and leaned back in the booth “I don’t believe the lady minded.”

Hermione looked at the man next to her who was currently staring out the stained glass window to avoid any eye contact. “You invented this spell?” 

“Love, if it requires a wand, Dolohov is an expert.” Yaxley said raising his pint glass, now empty “Wards, curses, charms and  _ other _ .”

“Other?” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“Yax!” Dolohov “She’s a child!” 

Yaxley grinned at her and she felt her face grow hot “I need to go to the loo.” She said, suddenly realizing what  _ other _ meant.

She slipped between a few men who were having a loud conversation about politics close to their table and weaved around a rowdy group of teenagers who were yelling at football on the telly. Her hair got caught on one of their fingers as she passed by, and the lanky school boy apologized as he tried to neatly place her hair back to where it was.

“It has a mind of it’s own.” She apologized and patted her hair down so he would let go, but the teenager used the opportunity to sling his arm around her shoulders.

“I have a mind to buy you a drink.” He was a good head taller than her. “Then I’ll give you a kiss if Robson gets a point, whaddya think, love?”

“Sorry, no.” She ducked out from underneath him but the boy’s friend was stronger and tugged her closer to the group. The floor tilted a bit and so did she. Her stomach did flip flops and she wondered how much she had actually had to drink.

“You go to school around here?” He was a bit bulkier than the first boy, he pushed her right back into Georgie. The world tilted the other way and she stumbled. “Georgie loves private school girls.”

“Oy!” The tall lanky boy, Georgie, said behind her “Posh girls are-” His attention was drawn upwards and his words died.

Hermione turned to see what he was looking at and saw Antonin Dolohov. He was as intimidating as he was tall, his eyes were as black as night, his jaw was clenched, an empty pint in one hand, an empty wine bottle in the other.

“Do you know them?” He asked her, his Russian accent was slurry from one too many whiskies on ice.

“Sure she does!” Georgie leaned in his lips close to her head and she pushed him away.

She stood next to Dolohov and smoothed down her hair awkwardly.

The fatter boy next to Georgie raised his pint and sloshed it on the floor “Oy! Do posh girls go out with their dads to the pub now? Or are you...you know”

There was a titter of laughter among the group of boys.

He raised the hand with the pint and Hermione caught it, his hands were warm, his knuckles clenched “I’m going to return this, we really should just...go.”

“I don’t know.” Dolohov continued “You tell me.”

The tittering died off and then suddenly the bar erupted in cheers, the boys turned to see Robson kicking the goal again in slow motion, Georgie, feeling particularly brave, grabbed her again. She yelped as Dolohov tore her away, pulling her into his chest the remains of the empty wine bottle spilling down her back.

“‘Allo, ‘allo.” Yaxley said as she struggled to pull away from Dolohov “What’s this then? You lads looking to spend a night in a police station?”

She tried to push away from Antonin, her heart beating wildly. He smelled like the woods and whisky. He smelled like  _ blood _ . Her scar hurt painfully and she struggled against him. He held her tighter. He was going to suffocate her. He was going to kill her!

“Looks like the  _ lady _ objects, old man.” She could feel something pulling on her arm and she tried to turn to see what it was. “Are you police then?”

“Ple-” Her voice died and her breathing sped up, her heart was going to rupture out of her chest.

“It’s too crowded in here.” Yaxley’s voice was lost in another round of cheers “Come on.”

The night air hit her, but her consciousness hadn’t yet. The world seemed to be moving in fast forward and all she could hear was the screams in the Department of Mysteries.

Yaxley was saying her name over and over and all the panic came out onto his shoes. Dolohov was standing in front of the two of them with his arms crossed, daring anyone to say anything about the vomiting girl on the streets of Corsham. Yaxley was rubbing her back. “S’okay, lass, the wine and chips didn’t settle. I didn’t think it would.”

She was shivering and she felt like the rest was going to come up, tears clouding her eyes. She felt like an idiot. What was she doing out late with two death eaters? Why did she let herself drink half a bottle of wine with them? Hermione rested her forehead on her knees and tried to let the mortification pass.

“Muggles do...I think kebabs after this?” Yaxley said thoughtfully rubbing her back.

“Yax,” Dolohov “The girl needs some tea and biscuits and bed. Girl, do you need help up?”

She shook her head and wished she could melt into the pavement. “No, I’m fine.”

“Tea sound good, love? I think there’s a cafe or something nearby, there’s gotta be.”

“What am I doing out here with you two?” She lamented, raising her head and pointing at the man in front of her. “You...you tried to kill me not two months ago, and lord knows what evil  _ crap _ you’ve been up to.”

Dolohov looked over his shoulder at her. “For now, we’re not at war.” As if it was as obvious as the night sky.

The words came out like vomit, it never stopped. “You follow some...idiot who wants me dead.”

Dolohov laughed, it was a rich sound that seemed to rattle around her brain. “Anyone who wants you dead probably  _ is _ an idiot.”

Her head was swimming and she laid her forehead on her knees. The street was on a hill and the hill was getting steeper.

“Antonin!” Yaxley hissed, obviously pissed at this point “Help me get her up.”

Hands came underneath her knees and behind her neck, wood and whisky. “I feel sick, put me down.” She whined pitifully “I can’t go home like this, put me  _ down _ .”

Birdsong woke her the next morning. She was in her room, and in her hand was a vial of hangover potion, and next to her bed was a bottle of water, still in it’s plastic bag from Sainsbury’s. She rolled over on her pillow and saw two calling cards.

On Dolohov’s, written in spiky script “ _ A prototype. _ ”


	6. Shot at Dawn

When she came home from Sainsburys a day or so later there were two more people in her house than when she had left. Her parents were sitting in the living room with Kingsley, whose robes were royally spread out around her Dad’s recliner, and another man, a blonde pudgy man, a dead man, a Lewis Catchepoole.

“Hello?” She asked, setting the bag down, pulling out a water and some crisps.

Her mother looked grave when she looked back at her and Hermione felt a pang in her chest. What had they told her parents?

“Hermione,” Kingsley said standing up “We were just having a chat with your parents about possibly moving them outside of England for the time being, The Order has a safe house-”

“I thought Mr. Catchepoole was seeing to our safety.” Hermione interrupted, biting her lip and sitting down next to her mum and dad on the couch. She didn't like where this was going.

“Hermione, why didn’t you tell us?” Her mother whispered, hurt made her voice crack.

“Mum, I figured th-”

“Hermione is critical to the war effort.” Kingsley interrupted “And so she was bound to secrecy.”   


A lie. Hermione shifted on the couch, suddenly she was very uncomfortable.

“Would I know where my parents were? Would I be able to visit?”

Lewis shook his head “I’ll see to it personally, Miss Granger, that your parents are secret kept, Death Eaters have started to learn their habits and we’re afraid they might use them to get to you. Or use  _ you _ to get to them, it’s important that the less people know the better.”

“Well,” Hermione pressed the water bottle between her hands taking some comfort in the chill. She didn't know who was pretending to be Lewis Catchepoole. She did know she couldn't trust them. “I really think I sh-”

“There’s not much time, you see.” Kingsley insisted “So we need a decision sooner rather than later.”

“The Order has been keeping watch on the residence, but we can’t watch  _ everything _ . There’s been an increase in magical activity in the area and we’re worried that we’re not the only ones watching.” Lewis said conspiratorially.

Hermione squeezed the bottle and swallowed her frustrations. They weren't going to force her hand now, no matter how urgent they made the situation seem. “I am really sorry gentlemen, I will owl you my response, for now, I need to speak with my parents,” when no one moved she stood up “ _ alone _ .”

“Miss Granger, we were hoping for an answer tonight.” Lewis Catchepoole insisted.

She didn’t like being rushed in such a way, it seemed like they knew something was going to happen to her but weren’t going to tell her in advance, but Hermione studied Lewis who looked a bit nervous on the loveseat. “Why?”

Lewis cleared his throat “Mrs. Granger, can we get a cuppa and talk this out?”

“Right, I think we’ve done  _ enough _ talking for tonight Mr Catchepoole.” Her father’s voice was clear behind her “We’ll think over the offer and give you a ring in the morning.”

“Let me see you two out, yeah?” Hermione turned back to see Catchepoole wiping his mouth. He looked sweaty.

She held the door open for the two of them and they both stepped out on your porch “We’ve had news that an attack on your house is...soon” Kingsley said “We were hoping to get your family into Order custody before you’re in someone else’s custody. You understand right?”

Hermione nodded “I think my parents are going to want to talk to me alone first, this is a big shock Kings, I don’t think having a bunch of wizards will convince them, but their daughter might. Give me some time?”   


Kingsley seemed to understand and gave her a toothy smile “That’s our girl. Owl us when you have a decision, we’ll come as soon as you do.”

When she shut the door she could feel the heat of her parents’ gazes drilling holes into her skin. She knew she was going to have to explain everything that she had been avoiding in her letters for all these years. Hermione turned slowly and leaned back against the door. Where was she going to begin?

She sighed. From the start. “Well mum, dad, you see in first year I may have gotten into a bit of trouble...”

The tea her mum made got cold, her throat was raw, she had cried a few times, and finally shown the scar from Dolohov that arced down her body in an angry white line. Her mother cried the most, she was sure, but now the three of them sat in silence. She clinked the spoon around her half drank tea cup before finally speaking.

“The last thing I want you to know is...I don’t fully trust the men who were here tonight.” She looked up from her tea up at her parents who were sitting close together on the couch.

“Why?” Her father asked “Have they...magicked you or something?”

She shook her head “It’s just a feeling right now, Dad, but I trust it.”

The feeling of course, came from the fact that a dead man kept popping by for visits every so often and they tried to steal her parents while she wasn’t home. She had just popped down the street for some crisps and from the sounds of things they had a long talk before Hermione had arrived home, which meant that they were looking to get a decision from her parents without her, and that they were waiting for her to leave so they could corner them alone. That didn’t sit well with her at all.

“I trust you, honey.” Her mum said finally, wiping her nose with a wadded up tissue “If we need to go because these  _ people _ are after you-”

“What I need right now is  _ time _ .” It was the truth “If you and dad could go to the continent for a bit, France maybe, on holiday?”

“What about you? Will you go with those people? You just said you didn’t trust them!” Her dad was up in arms already.

She shook her head “No, I have two other people I trust, from the Ministry of Magic. They’ve been helping thus far, and we’ll buy an extra ticket, for me, yeah? So I can come at any time.”

“Absolutely not!” Her father stood “You’re coming with us, and we’re taking you out of that school. They didn’t even  _ think _ to message me when my own daughter was nearly killed!”

Her scar itched at the mention and she frowned “Let’s...let’s sleep on it for now, yeah?”

A plan was already forming, but it made her stomach turn inside out. She felt like she was never going to eat again and took a small sip of water to fight the way her mouth turned dry. Could she do it?

Not alone.

* * *

 

She walked into the woods that night with a calling card and her wand, dressed in darkness, wiping tears away from her eyes and taking deep breaths. It was no use hyperventilating before the deed was done. There was no choice, was there? Either The Order took them, or she’d leave them alone for half the summer to be sitting ducks for either The Order or Death Eaters to take and use as they wanted.

She grabbed the card, "a prototype", with both hands and closed her eyes, hoping that at least with her eyes closed she would stop crying so much.

“ _ Lumos _ .”

Even with her eyes shut the charm lit up her vision. She took another steadying breath. “I need help.”

“Alright.” Dolohov said “We’re listening.”

She opened her eyes to see two well dressed men standing before her, they must have been at work, or out to dinner, both were wearing suits. She shifted uncomfortably. Yaxley looked concerned but elected to say nothing.

She patted down her hair and tilted her head up, biting her lip, and she said to the darkness above her in hopes that the tears that wouldn't cease, would at least not be so obvious. “I need to get my parents out.”

“What’s the plan, love?” Yaxley’s voice was soft.

“A memory modification, a red eye flight to Australia, to start with.” She said and sighed “I feel disgusting. I  _ am _ disgusting.”

“It’s cold out here.” Yaxley cajoled “Let’s head back, and talk.”

“They said they’re watching the house, I didn’t know how else...I have to get them out.  _ Lewis _ was here and they want a decision now. They want to take them into protection, but-”

“You’re not so sure about that?” Dolohov asked

“Is there an attack planned on my house soon? You lot would know.”

Yaxley shook his head “No, for now, we’re not at war.”

“You keep saying that,” She shifted her weight, the leaves crunched under her feet. “What does that mean?”

“It means our  _ lord _ has his head so far up his ass that we couldn’t do a concentrated war effort against anyone.” Dolohov spat “For now, we’re not at war because  _ for now _ our lord has shut himself up in a room and won’t talk to anyone.”

“Oh.” Hermione suddenly felt hollow. “Then that means-”   


“It’s a manufactured panic.” Yaxley finished for her

“My parents are still in danger then, but not from any Death Eaters.”

Yaxley looked out towards her house, the living room light glittering in between the trees “Well, let’s take care of that then, yeah?”

They fell into step easily, the leaves crunching underneath their feet, Yaxley would push branches out of her way before she reached them. They crossed her neighbor’s yard and before they were on her property a spell washed over the three of them, and then another, and then another.

“I’m not here to be some  _ voyeuristic pleasure _ for a dead man.” Dolohov spat. She tried to see him but her eyes hurt, like she had looked too close at a bright light, and averted her eyes instead. “A Notice-me-not charm is for children, this is a cloaking spell.”

His hand grabbed hers and she walked between them again, only seeing their feet drag through the soft grass. Dolohov had warm hands, the grief lessened a little as it mixed with the guilt that she took comfort from Antonin Dolohov.

Once they were in her kitchen again, Yaxley dispelled all the magic. Yaxley’s magic felt like a warm summer breeze. Hermione looked up at him and he gave her a reassuring smile “Are you sure this is what you want to do?” He asked, his voice low.

“Do I have a choice?” She felt all the fear well up again and she shook her head and moved through the house. Her whole body felt sluggish, each step took all of her energy.

They stopped in front of the white door to her parent’s bedroom. “We just need to make them believe it was their idea to go to Australia and to forget...forget me.”

Dolohov looked over her head “Yaxley.”

“You’re sure?” Yaxley whispered.

“It’s reversible?”

Dolohov moved around in front of her and withdrew a vial of something murky and dumped it out on the floor, shaking it and handing it to her “Put the memories in here, a memory modification this large...there’s a greater risk of failure.”

She grabbed the vial and he withdrew another, emptying it the same way before handing it to her. Yaxley pulled them both from her hands and gave her a lingering look before opening the door. She turned to see both her parents sleeping, and then the glow of their memories being extracted, long silver strands that came from their temples.

She realized that was all there was of her relationship with her. Two strands of memories, and now she no longer existed to the Grangers. Tears began to fall and Hermione just looked upwards, blinking rapidly. Now was not the time to grow weak. No tears, Hermione, you have work to do.

Yaxley made quick work of the memories and handed them back to her, along with his wand. His eyes looked into hers and he cupped her face with both hands, wiping away tears that she wished would stop falling. “Last chance.”

She shook her head and he seemed to understand, letting go of her and turning back to her sleeping parents. She heard it softly, tinged with regret.

“ _ Legillimens _ .”

When she drove her parents, who thought she was just an overly friendly neighbor with a Russian roommate who spoke little to no English, she asked them what their plans were for Australia.

“It’s time for a change.” Jean Granger said in the back, almost wistfully “I’ve felt so trapped for so long and then Martin...oh he’s such a romantic, he said let’s go back to the Gold Coast!” 

Martin laughed “It seems a bit romantic now, doesn’t it?”

She could barely see the road, Dolohov cleared his throat. “It does!” Her voice was a little high.

“We have more money than anyone can ask for, I think a few months...maybe years, who knows.” Jean said “Thank you so much for driving us so late!”

Yaxley had gone ahead of them to purchase the tickets at the airport. When he left Hermione was sure she had swallowed stones. Grief settled in deep, but she drove anyways, she wanted every last minute with them. She felt so  _ disgusting _ .

“Oh, any time!” Hermione assured.

“Minny was it?” Martin Granger asked.

“Hermione.” Dolohov corrected for her.

“Shakespeare, right?” Jean sighed “I think that’s such a pretty name.”

“It is, it is.” Hermione said and the conversation lapsed into heavy silence.

When they pulled up to unload the Grangers, Yaxley was already waiting curbside, his black sports coat helped him blend in with the sea of businessmen exiting and entering the airport. Yaxley handed her the tickets as they pulled in and she let the Grangers grab their luggage out of the back seat, the bright lights of London-Heathrow made the silver sedan shimmer, she felt bile rise in her throat, silver like their memories. 

She handed Jean Granger two tickets, first class, to Sydney. “You forgot these.” She smiled and realized she must look a fright.

“Oh thank you Hermione, you really are a good neighbor, it’s so rare these days!” Jean hugged her and Hermione remained still.

“Enjoy your flight.” Hermione said and waved at the two of them, their suitcases rolling behind them.

Her mum waved at her one last time as the glass sliding doors opened and Hermione leaned back against the car, empty.

“Do we...Do I…” She tried to find words, but no words came.

Dolohov opened the door for her. “Let us.”

She looked up at him and he gave her an awkward reassuring smile. Dolohov must not smile much, because on him it looked unnatural, his face struggled with the concept and it looked more like a grimace.

She got into the back seat and laid down, trying to capture the last of her parents’ warmth that was left in the leather. Trying to capture the last of her childhood.

Yaxley had the air conditioning on. The car grew cold. He was fiddling with the stations on the radio, settling on some oldies. He drove, and drove.

Dawn broke and sunlight slid over the car. Hermione kept her eyes closed. The sun meant that this wasn’t just a nightmare anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time it's taken to update this, I was actually in London for the past few weeks and didn't think to bring my laptop. I'll double post today to make up for it.


	7. Dead Letters

She was not at home when she woke up, she was in a mismatched bedroom, tucked in a large bed by herself. She could smell coffee, alcohol, and  _ mint _ . She knew at once that it was Dolohov’s room, the scent left by his magic was embedded in the fabric. There was faint music coming from the other room, it sounded like an orchestra, a violinist was playing his solo.

She slid out of bed and the cold hardwood floors were refreshing to feel underneath her barefeet. She was still wearing her clothes from last night, black t-shirt and black pants, her jelly shoes were next to the bed neatly. Hermione opened the door to see Yaxley and Dolohov sitting around a radio and eating breakfast on the couch and a chair. The living room was a mess, it was covered in papers and trash and dirty dishes. She frowned.

“Hermione?” Yaxley asked and there was a clink of silverware on china. “Are you hungry? We have...some things, we’re doing things  _ the muggle way _ lately as we don’t have a house elf at our disposal.”

He was up in a flash, artfully dodging the empty firewhiskey bottles to get into the small kitchen. “We have...oh well we don’t have much, eggs?” He said leaning into a cabinet that must be their equivalent of the refrigerator, there was a fine glaze of ice on the wood “Eggs and...firewhiskey.”

“Just eggs. I can cook.” She said padding over.

Yaxley waved her off and pulled some eggs from a punch bowl that was in the cabinet. “We need you to read some case files.”

Dolohov, who was sitting on the couch facing away from her held up a pile of papers. “When you told us about the record televisions, we went digging and found something on the records television in London.”

“You could work a computer?” She asked, grabbing the papers from Dolohov’s hand and saw Lewis Catchepoole staring back her her in black and white. He was holding something that looked cut off.

“He was a criminal?” She asked looking at the neat file on the left “ _ Possession of a deadly weapon, assault of an armed serviceman, murder _ .”

“Murder.” Yaxley repeated and there was a crack of an egg before the sizzle of it hitting the oil. “His own mum.”

“My parents said she died naturally a few years back, wouldn’t it have been all over Lalock if she had been murdered?”

“Also he was a muggle.” Dolohov pointed out “Why was his house secret kept?  _ How _ ?” 

She sat down in the chair Yaxley had vacated and started flipping through his criminal record. “He’s no stranger to the police, look at all these arrests.”

She shuffled back to the first one, during the summer of 1991: breaking and entering. “What happened in 1991?” She asked turning the paper so Dolohov could see.

“In ‘86, he got a job at 10 Downing street and then his whole life went to shit in ‘91.” Dolohov said, handing her another pile of printed out papers “It says here he was some kind of cabinet secretary.” 

She set his criminal record on her lap and started flipping through his employment history, she got back to his first job frying fish and chips in Bristol and held the papers to her mouth.

“What about that photo of him at the quidditch game?” She asked “With the Hufflepuff scarf?”

Yaxley handed her a plate of scrambled eggs and shuffled some papers so he could sit next to Antonin. “The woman who operated the records television said that to work at 10 Downing Street they had to do all these checks on him. These are all the checks. Want some report cards? They’re muggle NEWTS.”

“How long has Lewis Catchepoole not been Lewis Catchepoole?” Dolohov asked “That’s the question.”

She poured over the papers while she ate her eggs, grateful for the distraction, even more grateful for the company. She flipped the page: assault of a police officer, theft, breaking and entering, theft, breaking and entering. She flipped to the next page. Wait.

“He was arrested in Leeds and then four hours later, arrested in London?” She frowned “He wouldn’t have been even able to make the train even if the cops were  _ on _ the train with him to book him.”

Yaxley grabbed the papers from her “You’re right, 11:02pm in 92, arrested for assault, 3:06am, arrested for breaking and entering.”

“How many  _ people _ have been Lewis Catchepoole?” Dolohov amended his question “When did he stop existing?”

“What wizard visited 10 Downing Street and decided to take over his identity?” Hermione asked, looking through the rest of his employment history “and why did his body turn up now?”

The orchestra came to a crescendo after she finished her questioning and she looked at Yaxley who was scratching his stubble. They both looked so human in the morning, no longer intimidating, instead, Yaxley was in a black matching silk pajama set, and Dolohov was in a dirty grey shirt with plaid pants, both had five o’clock shadows, both had bedhead.

“Well, I suppose…” Yaxley yawned in the middle of this “We’ll make an appointment to go see people who knew Lewis Catchepoole last, if they still know Lewis Catchepoole, because, to be frank, love, I think you, me, Antonin, and the record television woman, are the only people who know Lewis Catchepoole ever lived.”

She flipped over his criminal record again, staring into the dead eyes of Lewis Catchepoole. It was him, wasn’t it?

The picture did not reply.

She was smoothing her hands over her smart skirt, her  _ only _ smart skirt, pushing the wrinkles out, trying to take her anxiety with them. They were sitting in 10 Downing, after a bit of smooth talking from Yaxley, waiting for the Prime Minister, or somebody, she wasn’t sure.

Someone cleared their throat, and she froze. “The Prime-Hermione?” She looked up from her skirt to see a very smartly dressed Percy Weasley leaning over the three of them.

Dolohov acted first, before Hermione could even open her mouth to formulate a response he had slammed Percy Weasley into a nearby side table, his wand pointed directly at Percy’s face.

Percy opened his mouth but no sound came out, and she realized that there should have been some sound when he had slammed into the table. Yaxley was up in a flash and all three of them disappeared into an adjacent room. She followed the two men and shut the door, Percy was trying to fuse with the wall, his eyes darted from Dolohov to her to Yaxley.

Yaxley cast the silencing charm on the room and Percy’s whimpered cry broke the silence. “A wizard.” Yaxley said, amused “In the Prime Minister’s residence?”

“Auror Yaxley!” Percy’s voice broke on his last name and he looked back at Hermione, pleading, she pressed herself against the door, afraid he’d lunge at her. He looked like a cornered animal.

“Don’t look at her boy.” Dolohov turned his head with his hand and Percy suddenly looked like he knew what fear was, he slumped against the wall. “You were sniffing around the Minister of Magic, and now you’re sniffing around here after you got fired?”

She hadn’t heard about pious Percy Weasley getting fired from the Ministry, while he had distanced himself from his family, they were still terribly proud of their son for being the undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. She bit her lip and thought Percy’s legs were going to give out underneath him. He was shaking like a leaf.

“Percy,” She said, giving him a small, reassuring smile “You’re just a normal secretary here, right? You just found a job here in the muggle world?”

“How about you have a seat, Weasley?” Yaxley pulled out one of the seats that was sitting in front of the large oak desk.

Dolohov pushed Percy down in it before taking the seat next to the shaking redhead. Hermione let out the breath she had been holding, glad that everyone was out of danger for the time being. Yaxley spun the leather seat behind the desk and collapsed in it with a thump.

“Alright, Weasley, you’ve never been very good at this kind of stuff, tell me why an idiot like you got hired here at Ten Downing.”

“What do you mean I’ve never been very good? I was the undersecretary to the Minister of Magic! I have been working from within the Ministry for the past 3 years with  _ excellent  _ references.” He began to his tie that had been pulled askew by Dolohov, straightening his posture.

“How would you begin to tell whoever hired you that you worked at a place called the Ministry of Magic?” Hermione asked and everyone turned to look at her “I mean, do they... _ know _ ?”

“Well, I mean of course they know.” Percy said “Do you think muggles are idiots? Besides, they just gave me the job.”

“Bullshit, Weasley, you were fired from the Ministry of Magic for accessing documents  _ you _ didn’t have clearance to look at.” Yaxley said, lacing his fingers together and putting his thumbs to his lips “So how would  _ this _ Ministry of Muggles want to hire you?”

“I told you, I told the Wizengamot it’s on record that I was under the influence of the imperius curse at the time and I do not recall looking at those documents!” Percy crossed his arms and turned to look out the window. “Besides, they gave me this job, I didn’t ask for it.”

“Did the Prime Minister knock on your door, Weasley?” Yaxley began to rifle through papers on his desk, Hermione felt bad for Percy “Did he want a convicted weasel on his team?”

“As a matter of fact, they did.” Percy said and spelled his clothing so it became neat again “I received a letter just a few weeks ago that there was an opening and they were looking at  _ me _ for the position, and of course I accepted.”

“What is the position?” Dolohov asked, peeved.

“MagiMuggle Relations.” Percy said and sat his head on his chin, looking pleased with himself. “A very important position, especially considering…” Percy let the sentence hang but the implication was obvious: Voldemort.

She felt the door knob turn behind her and she stepped back away from it. Yaxley got up and slipped something inside his jacket as Percy turned to see what she was doing.

“Prime Minister.” Percy said as the door opened to reveal an older gentleman that she had seen on the news many times before. He was tall with white hair and large glasses and a kind looking face.

“Percy, there you are, and, oh Corban Yaxley!” The Prime Minister seemed to light up at seeing the other man. “I didn’t know you were dropping by today. Percy, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was quite unexpected, sir.” Percy said and gave a nervous smile. “I wasn’t sure of the protocol.”  
“Yaxley and I go way back, _way back_. Why, it was his intervention that helped us with those Irish last year. Right, Yax?”

Yaxley came around the desk and shook the Prime Minister’s hand, nudging Hermione towards Dolohov who stepped partially in front of her. “This is, of course my two coworkers, Miss Anna and Mister Antonin Dolohov, you might remember him from when we were doing negotiations with Russia to get that wall business taken care of.”

“Anna! Why aren’t you a young thing to be working! Magical children must be put to work early, eh?” The Prime Minister laughed and opened the door a little wider “Come, let’s get some tea before you leave, I have much to thank your Ministry for as of late. Percy, go notify my secretary to push off that two o’clock with Alan Clark, would you?”

Percy closed his open mouth and nodded “Of course, Prime Minister.”

“Percy.” Dolohov’s voice was low “Do see us before we leave. We’d hate to not say goodbye.”

Dolohov kept her in front of him as they walked upstairs to the sitting room. The Prime Minister chatting with Yaxley like they had went to school together. She picked up bits of the conversation, apparently the IRA ceasefire had been negotiated due to magical intervention, but she wasn’t sure  _ what _ magical intervention. It had been a big boon for the administration.

“Come in, come in.” The Prime Minister said as his secretary hurriedly placed all the tea sets down on the ornate table in the middle of the room. “Yaxley, I thought you had moved on or something, they sent me this Weasley boy and lord knows what the Ministry was thinking.”

“The Ministry sent you Weasley?” Dolohov asked.

“Well, they mentioned that it’d be in my best interest to hire a full time liaison what with these Dementor things mucking about the country, you know about those?”

Yaxley motioned for Hermione to sit first and Dolohov was seated next to her. “The Weasley boy thinks that  _ you _ requested his employment, Minister.” Yaxley said as the secretary poured them all tea.

“Oh, heavens no, I would have requested you, you’ve done such a good job so far, but the Ministry said they’d make these scandals go away nicely if I hired this kid. Of course, all the scandals did disappear, but…”   


“But you’re still stuck with Percy.” Hermione finished for him,

The Prime Minister nodded “He’s from some powerful family, according to your people at the Ministry. I suppose nepotism isn’t just a...oh I suppose you call us “muggles”...I guess it’s not a muggle thing.”

“You have other friends at the Ministry of Magic?”

“Some people seem to know him well around here, it’s Percy’s dad, Arthur.” The Prime Minister said “He’s some higher up in your Ministry, and I suppose we owe him one for all the work you lot have put in for the party lately. He always seems to have a good hand in cleaning up scandals around here.”

Hermione tried to hide her reaction to this in her tea cup but ended up choking on the tea instead. It burnt.

“Anna, my girl, eat a biscuit!” The Prime Minister said, offering her a chocolate covered biscuit.

She was coughing and tried to turn away, taking the biscuit and nodding. “Sorry, just...down the wrong way.” Her eyes were watery.

“Yaxley, since you work with Arthur, I was wondering if you could have him deal with a girl.” The Prime Minister said in a low tone “You know, just the usual thing, make her forget or whatever magic you do.” He slid a piece of paper to Yaxley.

“Of course.” Yaxley said “Where is she now?”

“At the house.” The Prime Minister winked. “He’ll know.”

“Of course.” Yaxley gave a smile “Can you get Percy up here? We just need a moment alone with him before we go.”

It scared her, when Percy was sitting across from her and Dolohov, to see how easily Dolohov made him forget. Percy slumped down onto the pillows of the couch, unconscious.

They left.

* * *

 

“What do you think he meant by  _ the house _ ?” Hermione asked as they walked down the streets of London, the heat in the late afternoon seemed to rise from the ground.

Yaxley withdrew a piece of paper from his blazer and handed it to her “An electricity bill?”

“Look where the property is, love.” Yaxley said, pointing at the address at the very top.

In neat type was Lalock, Wiltshire. The electricity bill was enormous for a house, they had to be lighting up a palace for this price. She looked up at Dolohov who was reading over her shoulder.

“How long has the house been around?” She asked

“I would believe as long as Percy has been working at ten Downing.” Yaxley said “A few weeks.”

“How do you know?”

“It says  _ activation fee _ .” Dolohov pointed out, tapping the first line item in the bill.

Hermione flushed. “Oh.”

“What do the papers say about you, Hermione, brightest witch and all that?”

“Shut up, Yaxley.” She said, smacking him with the paper.

“Let’s get some lunch before we get into any more trouble today.” Yaxley said, folding the paper back up. “I’m feeling peaked.”

They slipped into a French restaurant and demanded they be moved to a booth in the back, Hermione slid in first, followed by Yaxley. Dolohov sat across from her and sipped his water out of a wine glass.

“So,” Hermione said, suddenly realizing how strange it was to be in this situation, but shook her head and tried again. “So, someone has been running around obliviating women for the Prime Minister?”

“Don’t play dumb now,” Dolohov said, flipping through the menu boredly “You  _ know _ who it was, you just don’t want to admit it was one of Dumbledore’s people.”

“Alright, so, for some reason.” She said, irritated “Mr. Weasley is going around England and obliviating women who are in scandals with the Prime Minister.”

“Right.” Dolohov said, flipping back to the first page of the menu.

“What does this have to do with Lewis Catchepoole?” Hermione asked

“Mister Minister said that people seemed to know Arthur well.” Yaxley tapped his finger on the table as he scratched his chin. “Did Catchepoole figure out what Arthur Weasley was up to?”

“It still doesn’t explain why everyone is impersonating him.” Hermione said as the waiter came over. She frowned and realized she hadn’t looked at the menu at all yet.

“What’ll it be love?” Yaxley asked

“Oh, you order first.” She said opening the menu “I haven’t had a chance.”   


“Chicken or Beef?” Dolohov asked across from her.

“Excuse me?” The waiter interjected, but when she looked up he was staring at her.

“Uh, beef is okay.” She said

“She’ll have the boeuf bourguignon, I’ll take the coq au vin.”

“The confit.” Yaxley said, grabbing her menu “and a bottle of pinot for the table, just pick something good. I don’t have any preference for lunch.”

When the waiter came back, it was Dolohov who inspected the label before it was uncorked, and it was Dolohov who took the bottle from the waiter’s hand and poured it himself before shooing the offended waiter away impatiently.

“Are you in The Order, Hermione?” Yaxley said as he poured his own wine.

She grew very still and stared at her wine glass. “No.”

“Is that where you were going to go in a few weeks?”

She nodded. She felt like a traitor, maybe she was a traitor. She stared down into the glass of wine and Yaxley rubbed her back reassuringly. Yaxley was always reassuring her. “If you need a place to hide, you’ve already slept in Antonin’s bed.”

“It’s not that,” She said, shooting him a look “It’s not that. It’s just…” She swirled the wine glass around, creating a small vortex of pinot noir. 

“Can we be sure Arthur Weasley, I mean, can we be  _ sure _ ?” She knew it was true already, but he was so kind, he was so  _ honest _ and now he was doing the dirtywork of cleaning up sex scandals for the Prime Minister. “And...Percy.”

“I’m not surprised that no one heard of Percy’s conviction outside of the Ministry, it was very hush hush at the time.” Yaxley said. “He was convicted but never sentenced, at the time I believed it was his father’s pull, but-”

“But now it looks like something else entirely.” Dolohov said and took a sip of his wine, looking somewhere over Hermione’s head.

Yaxley’s hand stayed on her back for awhile, warming her, calming her and she looked at him seriously for once, not as some villain, but as a man. He was always tailored in his finest, his blonde hair was always pulled back severely into a braid unlike Dolohov’s. He was thin and pale, with a smile that made her smile as well. 

She took a sip of her wine, dry and bitter, before sipping some water.

“Not to taste?” Dolohov asked as she sucked down the rest of the water.

“I don’t want to get drunk like last time.”

“I thought it was cute last time.” Yaxley said beside her “Do you want a white wine? It doesn’t pair-”

“No.” She said vehemently “Not like last time.”

Lunch was served and the wine, as bitter as it was, warmed her, she was sure, or perhaps it was the company. As Yaxley fed her a bite of his duck confit and Dolohov refilled her wine, she was sure it was the wine that made her face grow hot.

Their plates were clear, she was a little wine drunk, and they were all waiting for dessert to be served at Yaxley’s insistence.

“Why?” She asked, her finger tracing the ring of the wine glass.

Dolohov looked over at her seriously for a minute before emptying his glass “Why what?”

“Why is Weasley involved?” Yaxley shrugged next to her. “That famil-”   


“Why are we here?” She motioned to all three of them “Why are you helping  _ me _ ?”

“Do you want the truth?” Dolohov asked, spinning the wine glass in one hand “Or-”

“Or?”

“Something that sounds good.” Dolohov locked eyes with her and she instantly looked away.

“Something that sounds good.”

“It’s our job to protect and serve.” Yaxley said leaning back against the booth and pressing his hands into the side of the table “Just your friendly Ministry lackey!”

Hermione rolled her eyes at that. “Ok, the truth then.”   


“When we first met, and you saved us from the dementors, you incurred a life debt, from both of us, and we’re trying our damnedest to pay it off before you think to use it at an inopportune time.” Dolohov said, sitting back and studying his wine glass.

She felt sick, and her face was red. “I want to leave.”

“Shut it, Tonin.” Yaxley said, suddenly going very still beside her. 

The playfulness of lunch was gone, replaced with the roiling feeling of shame that for some reason she considered these two to be anything other than Death Eaters. Of course they were trying to absolve a life debt. If she called on them when they were facing each other on the battlefield then they’d be rendered useless, magically bound to  _ her _ command.

“How do I get rid of it?” She asked very quietly “How can I release you from a life debt and  _ never _ see you again?”

“We have to save your life, twice.” Dolohov said “And all we’ve been doing is preventing an opportunity from arising that we  _ can _ . And now we’re having lunch together, and you’re sleeping at our place. At this rate we’re going to be bound for life due to Yaxley’s endless well of  _ kindness _ .”

“Antonin.” hissed Yaxley “Enough.”

“The girl deserves a right to know that we’re not here because we like her or because she’s particularly useful but because we can’t risk her dying with a debt, and we need to be present when we can absolve it.”

Hermione was furious she was shaking in her seat. She was the fool. She was the  _ fool _ . She stood up in the booth and stepped over Yaxley before exiting the French restaurant onto the streets of London. She could go home, but The Order was most likely watching her residence with whoever Lewis Catchepoole was. She sighed and pulled her pencil skirt down and began to walk.

The Devil You Know.


	8. They Seek Him Here

Every corner of her house oozed guilt. Crookshanks wrapped around her legs as she sat in the empty living room. She had betrayed her parents, and betrayed The Order. She turned on the news and watched the weather man gesture wildly at the different temperatures and felt hollow. She was alone and isolated, exactly what the Death Eaters would want, and two Death Eaters led her to do. She was a sitting duck. The word idiot was a constant chant in her head and she buried her face in her hands.

“And now back to you Kim.” The weatherman finally ended.

“Thank you, Tom.” A knock on the door “We begin our story tonight with-”

She got up, willing her legs to do the work. She knew who it was before she even got up off the couch. Yaxley with a halfhearted apology, Dolohov with a glower. She hated them both. “I said I never wanted to see your face again!” Hermione called, padding through the living room “I’ll find a way out of this debt myself.”

She opened the door to see Lewis standing there, hands behind his back as he inspected something above her head. “What debt?” He asked.

“Oh, Mr. Catchepoole.” She cursed herself.

He stepped in, his body brushing up with hers, his magic felt wet against her skin, like a sweat from a hot sauna. She stepped back “Come in, then.”

“We visited this morning but it seems as if no one was home, and your parents practice...well, it doesn’t exist anymore, does it?” Lewis was moving quickly through the house and Hermione had a feeling this interaction wasn’t going to end well. “We asked a few neighbors and it seems like the Grangers  _ never _ had a dental practice her in Lacock.”

“Oh.” Hermione said as he looked around the kitchen for something, he pulled open the curtains roughly and then he turned to her, his eyes mad.

“Where are they Miss Granger?” His voice was rough.

“My parents are vacationing in France, as they usually do during the summer.” She had practiced this lie, she was going to stick to it.

“Liar.”

She looked Lewis straight in the eye, refusing to back down. “Do not call me a liar in my own home.”

“Give me your wand, girl.” He stuck out his hand so fast she thought he was going to hit her and she recoiled.

“I don’t think that’s wise.” 

“Obliviating muggles is a crime, if you have nothing to hide then you can give me your wand. A _priori_ _incantatem_  will take care of that.” He grabbed at her and she stepped out of reach.

“Breaking and entering is a crime as well Mr. Catchepoole.” Her voice was dangerous, her wand was still in the other room in her bag. This damned outfit didn’t have a single pocket. “I suggest you leave before I report you.”

“Report me to whom?” He continued to advance on her and she knew that she would have to make a break for the living room to grab her wand to have a chance in hell at defending herself. “The Ministry? Kingsley? The Order? Try me girl. Where are your parents? What did you do to all those muggles?”

He grabbed her before she could get out of the way. Hermione kneed him and tried to tug herself out of his grasp, but there was a big difference in strength between a 17 year old girl and a six foot two man who was twice her weight. Even when she made contact he just bent over and closed his legs, grabbing her tighter. “Bad idea, girl.” He pointed a wand at her face “Let’s see how you like it.  _ Aculeus” _

Her face was on fire instantly, it felt like she had just plunged it into hot coals. She closed her eyes and felt herself getting pulled, stumbling over furniture she couldn’t see. “Where are your parents, girl? Where is your wand?”

She opened her eyes and dots swam around her vision, obscuring everything that mattered. Where was her purse? “Go to hell.”

He threw her into the coffee table and she heard her purse clatter on the ground with the tea cup. Her hipbone caught the edge of the table and she rolled over on top of the wet carpet that was still hot from her tea. “We can’t have any more incidents, yeah? A girl like you, obliviating muggles, at least thirty is going to be a helluva mess for the Ministry to clean up, and right now, we can’t afford any more incidents, yeah?”

She opened her eyes and tried to focus on anything  _ but _ the dots and found her purse. She felt a tug on her hair as Lewis hoisted her back up, but he was too late. She couldn’t reach him here, but she could reach something. 

“ _ Incendio _ .” She pointed at what she thought was her fireplace, but Lewis yanked her backwards, her curse missed and caught the television instead.

It didn’t matter. It wasn’t about hitting the fireplace, it was about getting word to Ministry that there had been underage magic. The fastest way to summon an auror was to break the law.

“ _ Crucio _ .” She braced for impact, red light consumed her vision and she was dropped suddenly on the ground, her head banging off the same wooden coffee table. The television popped as the vacuum tubes melted. Glass went everywhere.

“Head of DMLE here to investigate a report of underage magic.” Yaxley arrived with his usual fanfare. “A Miss Hermione Granger was said to have used an _incendio_ at this residence at approximately 5:06pm.” 

She crawled back from Lewis who was twitching on the ground, curled up in a ball as he was cursed. She felt hot liquid trickling down her neck and the smoke from the TV was filling up the room. “Aguamenti.” She pointed her wand at the melting television and water sprayed everywhere, dousing the fire in a hiss. The flames faded with the red light of the cruciatus, smoke billowing out of the charred remains of her television, and then all the smoke was sucked into a vortex. There were only two men in the house when the smoke had cleared: Antonin Dolohov, and Corban Yaxley.

“Fuck.” Yaxley said looking where Lewis was prior “A portkey. Oh fuck, Hermione, your  _ face _ .”

Her face stung and she was sure she looked a fright, but she was safe and hopefully this meant that the debt was resolved. They had just saved her life, right? “You saved my life just then, debt absolved.” She waved her hand and turned away from both of them.

“You’re bleeding.” Dolohov said.

“Thanks, I noticed.” She said, grimacing as she felt the back of her head. “Are you done gawking at me?”

“Come on,” He said, his voice suddenly too close for comfort “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“You’re absolved! You’re absolved of this stupid debt!” She hated this, she hated that they always saw her when she needed help when she was just some idiot who happened to save their lives  _ once _ . “Leave me alone.”

“I’m absolved then.” Dolohov’s voice was quiet “Let’s get you cleaned up, and see what we can do about your face.”

She was lifted up and she struggled against it, but each time she struggled, his grip would get tighter.

* * *

 

She could see without spots swimming around her and Yaxley was sitting on the lip of her tub as Dolohov leaned over her, inspecting the back of her head. “He said what?”

“We can’t afford any more incidents.” She said and then hissed as Dolohov hit a particularly tender spot. “Stop touching me, I’m fine.”

“Except for this big flap of skin that’s come off your skull, you’re fine. Except for the fact that your face is swollen up like a balloon, you’re fine.” Dolohov mocked her and then she heard him mutter something and there was a sharp pain that made her grit her teeth.

“You obliviated everyone?” She asked trying to take her mind off the tender touches her almost-murderer was giving the base of her head.

“Standard cleanup procedure.” Yaxley said and looked at her with a strange sort of affection. “He was insistent about your parents?”

“Yeah.” Dolohov’s hand came under her swollen face as she spoke and his face was inches away from hers as he inspected her.

“Stinging hex?”

She tried to nod but she couldn’t, so she closed her eyes instead. Her face felt cool for a second and then he stepped back, brushing against her towel rack. “Well, that’s as far as I can get for now.”

She peered over in the mirror and saw her face had decreased in size, but was still as red as a bright tomato. She looked like he had sunburn, her white collar was now a brownish red as the blood dried. Dolohov was watching her in the mirror and she turned back to the two of them.

“Are you really absolved of the life debt?” She asked seriously.

Dolohov crossed his arms and studied her for a second. “Yaxley says that I need to apologize. We are in debt to you, and it is in our best interest to look out for you. But you deserve the truth of why we are here, and that is it.”

“To make me a fool, to isolate me, and turn you over to your Lord.”

“To be quite fair, love.” Yaxley said beside her “Your Order isn’t doing much better by the looks of it.”

She touched her face and looked at her wand in her hand. “So, still in debt.”

“Still in debt.” Dolohov agreed.

“Even though you just saved me?” She asked “Surely, he would have-”

“Poor timing.” Dolohov scratched his stubble and looked over at Yaxley “So, what do we do, take the girl with us? We can’t leave her. Lewis can come back whenever he wants to. Someone invited him in the first time and so the wards aren’t going to work.”

“Is that common knowledge?” She asked, she knew  _ nothing _ about wards.

“Of course.” Dolohov waved it off “With blood wards people must be invited in by a member of the bloodline.”

She cursed under her breath. The Order  _ was _ working against her. Moody had asked that both of them be invited in even though he needed nothing in her house, it was to nullify any wards she had set in place.

“Brightest witch of our age.” Dolohov said at her reaction “We’re all doomed.”

“Shut it, Tonin.” Yaxley said next to her “Where was she going to learn about blood wards? Who neglected to  _ tell her _ ? You’re at much fault as her.”

Antonin looked chagrined.

“Hermione, we can either sleep in this house with you, or you can come back to our flat.” Yaxley said standing up.

She shook her head. “He was looking for something in this house. I’ll be staying here at least to search it. Whoever Lewis is, wanted something my parents had and thought that it was here.”

“The couch it is.”

“There’s also a spare bedroom.” She sighed getting up from the toilet. “But first, let’s clean up.”

Giving in was easier, it was easier because she wanted them around for some twisted reason. Yaxley cast a cleansing charm and she felt the heat of his magic wash over her. She shot him a look. “Stop doing that.”

“I’m here to protect and serve.” Yaxley said as they started down the stairs.

* * *

 

A tapping at the window and then a  _ thud _ woke her. She was warm and there was some weight on her, but before she could see what the weight was it was lifted. Hermione opened her eyes and watched Yaxley smooth down his hair and walk across the room with his usual grace that came from years of dueling. She must have fallen asleep reading with them last night before she went to bed.

The couch shifted underneath her.  She realized the couch was a very warm and very  _ real _ man. She pretended to be asleep again, mortified that she fell asleep on top of Antonin Dolohov. Gods, how could she have been put in such a compromising position? 

“Who is it?” Dolohov asked quietly, his voice was rough from sleep.

“Lucius.” He sighed and there was a  _ pop _ as the magic on the seal broke. “Who else would have eagle owls? What a ponce. Nothing interesting, some more prattle about the  _ old magic _ which might as well be superstition, and of course a favor at the end.”

“A favor?”

“A favor.” He sighed “Regarding Draco, to make his wand untraceable. It’s easier to teach the boy wandless magic than it is for me to go through the mountain of work to make his wand conveniently disappear.”

“Be it beyond a Malfoy to be governed by the rules of men.” Dolohov shifted and she was laid down on the couch and then suddenly a blanket was laid over her. 

They began to talk of idle things: stuff that goes wrong at the Ministry (everything), their opinions on Malfoy (his money doesn’t make up for a shit personality), and what they were going to do today, but before they got too far into the last topic she had drifted back off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So terrible footnote is that I completely messed up a town in this story, instead of Lalock, it should be Lacock, Wiltshire! I'm so sorry for Brits who have been reading this and knew that I made up the town.
> 
> I've written at least 15,000 words in the past few days while I've been sick so I'll be posting more regularly to catch up.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing this silly plot bunny that came from watching way too much Midsomer Murders one night. Yaxley and Dolohov are so comfortable together, it's so nice to write them interacting. It's like cozy pajamas.


	9. The Silent Land

They were standing in front of a parking lot on the edge of town. It was stiflingly hot even though it was only eleven. The sun was beating down on the three of them as Yaxley paced in his suit with the electricity bill. The house that was supposed to be here wasn’t. Secret Kept? Her eyes travelled to the bill in Yaxley’s hand. No, they had the address. The secret was out.

She took a step back and observed the surroundings. They were on the outskirts of town, run down buildings and one bedroom trap houses with barking dogs, not too far away from where Catchepoole lived. “Give me the bill Yaxley.”

He tossed it at her frustrated "Where is it?"

She picked it up off the ground. It looked relatively normal for an electric bill, there were line items for everything, and except for the exorbitant price, nothing was out of place. So, why couldn’t they find the address on the bill? It should be right here.  She rubbed her fingers on the paper and frowned. It  _ felt _ thicker than it was, maybe two pieces stuck together? She studied it and held the paper up to the sun to see if perhaps she could see the writing on the second piece of paper.  The light seemed to turn the paper yellowish and she realized that perhaps this was no electricity bill at all.

“Can you see if there’s any charms on this?” She asked holding it out to Yaxley “This isn’t what it seems.”

Dolohov whispered a  _ finite _ and the paper turned into a bit of used up parchment with scribbles on it. Yaxley grabbed the paper and there was a swell of magic, the same sickly magic that reminded her of Lewis Catchepoole and Dolohov, realizing what it was, grabbed her and pulled her close. With a tug at her navel they were gone.

They were somewhere so dark Hermione thought she had went blind. She could hear them breathing next to her and she groped into the darkness and finally Dolohov cast a lumos which flickered out. They were surrounded by smooth concrete. There were no windows, no doors,  _nothing_.

“Yaxley.” She breathed. This place had the same magic as the portkey, the same magic as the warding. This place  _ reeked _ of Lewis Catchepoole.

“It’s okay, love.” He sounded unsure, he cast a lumos again and it faded, like a candle that finally ran out of wick. “ _ Fuck _ .”

Dolohov pulled her closer to him, his warm hands on her arm. “No magic will work here, stop wasting your energy.”

“There’s magic.” Hermione said and she touched a wall, the room glowed yellow as she touched the cold wards. “The room is warded, this is a trap.”

“Are you passing them information?” Dolohov accused, turning on her “How else would they have known we were going to see the Minister?”

“Dolohov, why would you think I led you into a trap that I am  _ caught in _ .” She snapped, annoyed. She leaned back against the wall, relishing in the cold of the wards after being outside in the hot sun for so long.

There were no doors, no windows, nothing. She moved around the wards, touching them and starting to shiver because of it, but she needed light. Finally, she reached the corner opposite of them in the three by three metre room and nothing.  She cast a lumos and watched it fade. 

“One of the wards will suck the energy out of the charm if sustained, not this final one. The more magic we do, the stronger it will become.” Dolohov touched the ward and ripples of light began to emit “A freezing charm, you remember how we set up the wards at your house right? Stop touching it girl, you’ll give yourself hypothermia.”

There was a shadow unlike all shadows in the room, and at first she thought it was Yaxley’s shadow being cast by wardlight but as she moved around the wall, her teeth chattering as the cold magic put ice in her veins, the shadow began to have a sickly pallor, and then the shadow was wearing a black dress, and the shadow had  _ eyes _ . 

The shadow, a woman, was twisted at an unnatural angle and blood was pooling from her mouth and into her blonde hair that was ratty and knotted. Her dress was hiked up around her waist, exposing her nakedness underneath. She was staring at Hermione, staring through her. She was dead.

Hermione let go of the ward, and everything went dark. “There’s...a corpse.” She said at last, the final two words had gotten stuck in her throat.

The wards lit up again and she looked behind her to see Dolohov staring at the dead body. “So, this is a prison, not a trap.”

Yaxley brushed past her and crouched down over the body, he touched her neck that had obviously been snapped. “She’s cold, she’s been here at least twelve hours or so.”

“We have to leave.” Hermione said looking back at Dolohov who let go of the wards again and they were plunged into darkness “We’re going to  _ die _ here.”

“Any ideas on how to break a ward without magic, love?” Yaxley’s voice was suddenly very near, and there was a hand on the small of her back.

“We can’t be here with a bloody rotting corpse!” She said, touching the wall just to have it light up again, the dead body there to see. Being alone in the dark with a dead body was making her panic. It seemed stupid but she  _ felt _ wrongness.

“Come on, girl, get a hold of yourself.” Dolohov snapped, but she could tell he was panicking too. “Yax, we could make an offering.”

“An offering?” Hermione’s mind went to a million things all that included her becoming the next corpse. She backed up into Yaxley who held her steady. “An offering?” She squeaked

“ _ Blood Magic _ .” In the dark Dolohov sounded sinister and the fear that settled inside of her was colder than the wards. Death would be swift.

“I don’t have anything to cut with, we don’t have anything to offer, calm down Hermione,  _ merlin _ you’re twitchy.” Yaxley had put his arm around her waist and she had jumped nearly a mile. Yaxley couldn’t hurt her so he was going to make Dolohov do it.

Yaxley lit up the room again by pressing just one finger into the warding and the body was there, staring at the three of them as they thought. Yaxley pulled her closer as he put more of himself onto the wards, lighting up the room even more, and when he had finally put his whole body up against the wall, the room was lit up like daylight. His body temperature had dropped and she felt like she was being held against ice. 

She realized, belatedly that Yaxley had been using her to stay warm while he created light, and she felt sheepish that she thought that he was just trying to stay close to her, to make his last moments before they all got killed by their jailer good ones. 

“Nothing.” Yaxley stood up straight and light disappeared.

“Hermione,” Dolohov said, and he felt his hand brush against her in the darkness, groping blindly for the two of them before finding her shoulder “Do you have anything to cut with?”

“How much blood do you need?” She asked shoving her hands into her pockets, empty.

“Only a little, only a small offering, it might not work but-”

She bit her lip, trying to think of how she could cut  _ anything _ , and when metallic hit her tongue, she realized. “I can give you an offering, help me.”

Dolohov squeezed her shoulder, his warm hands trailing down her arm until his arm met Yaxleys, and the other man let go. She felt the loss of heat, and the strange loss of safety that came from the man who was oathbound to protect her. Dolohov had strong hands and a surety as he crossed the room.

He touched the ward briefly and then sunk to his knees before her, his eyes looked hopeful. “You’ll make an offering to the elements in this room and hopefully the magic will be too low level to trigger the warding.” 

“Low level?” She asked.

“Elemental.” He replied and held both of her hands, tugging her down with him in the darkness. “This is Russian magic.”

“We need your blood, somehow, do-”

“Give me a second.” She bit her lip  _ hard _ , and her whole body tensed up, but she could taste the blood in her mouth, mixing with her saliva, stinging.

She nodded, and when nothing happened, she squeezed his hand.

“Put your offering into this hand.” He tried to move it up towards her but he missed in the darkness and she had to steer him back. She spit into her hand and he let out a chuckle. “Unladylike, but it’ll do.”

He brought her hand to the cold cement and dragged her palm against the gritty floor, a straight line, and then some swooping arcs until all the blood was used up and she had to give more for their painting. How did he know he was even getting the rune right?

“Let the magic guide you, Hermione.” His voice was a whisper and she closed her eyes and she could feel the tickle of guidance, her middle finger tip was buzzing like a small electric current was attached and then it faded.

Dolohov wasn’t touching her anymore, the wards around the bottom of the room were glowing softly, like distant candles, and then it began to leech up the wall. As the wards grew, like dawn, she could see him better. He was kneeling across from her, and between them was a character that she had never seen before, a swirling, blossoming mandala of her own blood.

He reached out and brushed his thumb across her chin as the room grew brighter she could see that he was cleaning the blood off of her. “It seems that our payment was accepted.” He gave her a roguish smile and pressed his thumb down into the middle of the floral mandala and the room turned white before fading.   


Yaxley whispered  _ lumos _ and there was wandlight. The three of them looked at eachother and then up, to see the ceiling wasn’t stone at all. It was strangely curved wood that was bent on either side of the ceiling with metal bars running across it.

The lumos didn’t die, and Dolohov helped her up. With a crack, both of them apparated.

* * *

 

There was a  _ corpse _ in the living room of Yaxley and Dolohov’s messy apartment. There was a potion brewing in the sink, and Hermione was trying to ignore both the stench of decaying flesh and the stench of the healing potion as she sat on the couch facing the radio with a tea towel pressed up against her face.

“It’s looking better, yeah?” Yaxley asked, sitting down across from her on a beaten recliner.

“We need to get that body to a coroner, Yaxley.” She said, her words muffled, her lip swollen. “A coroner can identify her, we can’t.”

Yaxley leaned forward and stared at the tea towel, she sighed and removed the towel for the fifth time in the hour that they had been home. It was swollen and sensitive, it made her words feel funny. “It’s not bleeding as much.” He said, satisfied with his mothering and leaned back. 

“The body?” She asked hopefully and looked back over her shoulder at the white sheet that was covering the corpse that Yaxley had apparated in. 

There was a clinking of glass and metal and she realized the potion was done. She blotted her fat lip with the bloody tea towel and looked at Yaxley to confirm he wasn’t going to stare her down again and brought the towel to her lap. She tentatively touched her swollen lip and winced. She may have bitten harder than she needed to, but they needed blood, and she was a donor. Blood rituals. Was that dark magic?

She decided to voice her concerns “Is it dark?”

“No, just swollen.” Yaxley said and leaned in to look at her lip again “Maybe a bit b-”

“No, I mean... _ blood rituals _ .” 

“You are calling on the magic of the earth to assist you.” Dolohov pressed a vial into her hand and sat down next to her “Is it dark? No darker than the world around you. Would Dumbledore think it’s dark? Absolutely.”

She rolled the vial around and then uncorked it sniffing it to make sure this wasn’t an elaborate attempt to poison her. It was a standard healing potion, brewed surprisingly well. She downed it. And in a moment her swollen lip was healed.

“Headmaster Dumbledore is not a fool.” She said. “If he thinks it’s dark it probably  _ is _ .”

“Did it feel particularly dark?” Yaxley asked.

She felt her newly healed lip while she thought on the question. “It felt painful, but no, it didn’t feel wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it. Just not everyone can  _ do _ it.” Dolohov said “Dumbledore can’t, therefore it’s dark.”

“Why not?” She asked looking at Yaxley who had now turned away from her and was staring at the radio intently.

“Dolohov has a theory.” He let the last word trail off, hoping that the other man would pick up.

“Of course, tiptoe around it, Yax.” Dolohov sounded irritated on the other side of her. “It’s about your blood.”

“Oh, whatever.” She huffed, irritated that they were going to bring up her heritage “I thought we were past that.”

Dolohov waved her off “I think your blood might have something to do with the fact that Catchepoole was after you for so long, but I’m not convinced. There’s something different about you, Hermione Granger. Not a lot of people can break warding with some spit and blood.”

“You could do it, you s-”

“It’s all about potency.” Dolohov said, avoiding her gaze.

The conversation was left at that. She let the words turn over in her mind, until Yaxley announced that it was time for them to leave.

* * *

 

“We’ve sent her blood to the lab to get an identity, Mr. Yaxley.” The Coroner said in a morgue that was a maze of dead bodies, apparently crime was a priority in London, and Yaxley had to fight just to be seen when they had shown up.

Not that anyone put up much of a fight when Antonin Dolohov was involved.

Hermione looked down at the naked woman they had pulled from the trap, now clean, her eyes stared up past the ceiling. She had bruising on her neck, neat purple fingerprints, and then cuts all over her body, like she had got into a fight with a stack of paper and lost. The cuts seemed to baffle the coroner but Hermione could think of a few spells that would produce the same results.

Hermione spoke, realizing that both Dolohov and Yaxley didn’t know what it meant to get bloodwork done. “How long should we expect to wait for the results?”

“I suppose tomorrow morning,  _ anything  _ for our Military.” The Coroner, a tall skinny man with coke-bottle glasses that slid down his nose detested Yaxley for making it into a military case, and probably detested the military as well. “Not that all these other corpses mean anything to our country.”

“Right, have you seen any other girls in like this? Or perhaps strangled?” Yaxley said, ignoring his last comment.

The coroner laughed at them in a room full of the dead. “Plenty.” 

Hermione shifted her weight, and Dolohov seemed to sense her unease. He stepped closer to her and Yaxley looked around at all the bodies covered in white sheets around them. “Let’s see them then.”

The morgue was a great equalizer. Women who she was sure were junkies from the track marks in their arms lay side by side with wealthy prostitutes with ten thousand dollar smiles. Yaxley handled the corpses like he had seen a million, tilting their heads over to see where the strangulation marks were, comparing them to the two they had to go on. “Missing hair.” Hermione said quietly after they got to the third woman with perfect roller curls and a bright smile. “A puncture in the neck as well.”

Her stomach was threatening to toss up breakfast, the smell of death was  _ sterile _ in this crowded room. It was perhaps not the corpses but the ease of which the coroner pulled out more and more dead women. Three more victims, no names but their calling cards, after twenty or so girls was all Hermione could handle.

She sat on a metal bench in the long white hallway, Dolohov handed her a cup of hot water but no tea and stood in front of her, looking into window behind her, watching Yaxley inspect more and more bodies.

“Dolohov.” Her voice was quiet, barely audible over the hum of the flourescents overhead.

He looked down at her, wisps of steam coming off his coffee cup. “Hermione.”

“How long…” The question died in her throat, she felt like voicing it made it more real. “How long have wizards been killing women for the Muggle Ministry?”

Dolohov shook his head and took a sip of the coffee, grimacing “No fucking clue. If we’ve found six dead muggles in the past week alone, how many have died since Lewis Catchepoole has gone rogue?”

Yaxley came out with a list of names on a yellow post-it note and a grim expression. “Ready, love?”

She shook her head. “How many?”   


“Only four girls who match our profile, the missing hair, the puncture wound, and the strangulation.” He held the post-it note between two fingers. “All I have is their business names, I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night finding out where these girls last went.”

“Four girls, four more polyjuiced people running around and assuming their identities.” Hermione stared down into the styrofoam cup of hot water. “How many witches are not witches?”

Yaxley made a coughing noise and then looked at Dolohov. “The Pickwick Witches.”

“We are not taking the girl there.” Dolohov said looking at her “We can go later, Yax, but the girl-”

“Nonsense, they’ll love her.” Yaxley gave her one of those smiles that made heat settle inside of her and wondered if even his mere smile was magic and they disapparated with a pop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew I've been on such a roll lately, I feel like maybe I should post an extra chapter tomorrow for my birthday. I thought about talking about a different face cast for Yaxley than Peter Mullan because his actor in the movies is old and Hermione is so young but tbh, I love old men and you should too.


	10. The Straw Woman

The Pickwick Witches was a well run brothel that had a well established reputation and a well known friendship with Yaxley who had a drink in his hand before Hermione had even stepped over the threshold. Dolohov followed her into the luxurious bar that was covered in a metric tonne of fine silks and carpets from Morocco. He kept her close, his hand hovering just a few inches from her hip as Yaxley sipped his drink and looked around the room. It was early afternoon, there were far more women than men, and Hermione looked up at Dolohov who was looking for  _ someone _ .

“Gentlemen.” Her voice was jazz music, sultry and fine tuned for seduction. Dolohov's someone had arrived. “Oh and a young miss. What can we do for the Ministry?”

A woman with dark curly hair in a red dress that left nothing to imagination, peeking out underneath her dark red robes offered her hand and a smile.

“Elora.” Yaxley said and handed her his drink, she saw about 4 galleons underneath the clear crystal tumbler. “We’ll need the polyjuice specials and a table.”

The gold disappeared into Elora’s pocket and they were slid into a table that reminded Hermione of divination, the ornate gold embroidery seemed to move sensuously across the cloth that covered the small round table. Yaxley seated her first, her back against the curtains that may or may not be covering a window. It was hard to tell where anything was in the ornate brothel.

Elora slid a leather bound book across the table and gave Yaxley a wink “Any particular girl you’re hoping will fulfill a fantasy? We’ve been  _ dying _ to get you in here.”

“A common theme.” Dolohov said and flipped open the book, scanning moving pictures of women, blowing kisses, modeling their wares, and more.

“Of course, all of these samples come from Ministry approved sources.” Elora said as she pointed to a blonde girl who was bending over to show her  _ ample charms _ to the camera, Elora's long red nails stayed a little longer than necessary and when Hermione looked up from the photo she realized Elora was staring at her.

“Hands off, Elora.” Yaxley said, not looking up from the book. “Don’t even  _ look _ at her twice, or you’ll be up to your ears in aurors.”

“Touchy.” Elora sniffed “Well, miss, can I get you something to drink while your gentlemen pick out their companions?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “None thanks.”

“Posh girl, isn’t she?” Elora sounded chuffed let her hand linger on Dolohov’s shoulder for a moment before she disappeared somewhere else.

Hermione frowned at the insult but Dolohov gave her a small smile as Yaxley flipped through pages hoping to see a dead girl but none appeared. Yaxley sat back after maybe the fiftieth page, staring out across the bar that was starting to get crowded with the late hour. Hermione flipped the book over to the back and began to work backwards.

The corpse that they had dragged out of a windowless room was now unbuttoning her top, a flirtatious wink every so often as another button came undone. She had a brilliant smile, and a perfect body and was willing to show them both for twenty galleons. “Ah.” She said, bile rising in her throat as the dead woman twirled to show  _ all _ her assets. “This is her then.”

“The Pickwick Witches is well known for the  _ polyjuice _ service, and I suppose I thought you could sell your identity for a pretty penny and the witches would do the dirty for you. Prostitution without the fluids.”

“She said these were Ministry approved.” Hermione looked up at Yaxley who was studying the prostitute in the book. “What does that mean?”

“It means someone at the Ministry has been supplying these samples.”

“So, corruption.”

“Love, we’ve been nestled into a lovely booth and offered drinks and services for free. This information-” Yaxley tapped the book “-is due to corruption.”

“So, we’re looking for someone more corrupt that us?”

“We’re looking for someone using all this corruption to their advantage.” Dolohov chimed in, ripping out the photo of the corpse. “Elora!”

“I see you...you’ve found a lady to your liking.” She made a face at seeing the page had been ripped out of the book “Shall I show you-”

“To your potions lab.” Yaxley finished for her, getting up and helping Hermione out of her seat. His hand was warm as it clasped around hers and she found herself easily squeezing back. Yaxley was the type of man who was so easy to be around.

“ _ Lumos _ .” Yaxley whispered in front of her, leading her by the hand down a narrow set of wooden stairs into the basement of the brothel.

“Right.” Elora said, looking more peeved than ever before “Take a look then boys, I assume that the Ministry is paying for not having a warrant this time either.”

“The Ministry always pays.” Yaxley handed her a few more galleons and Elora started up the stairs again. “And Elora, if any of my other friends from the Ministry drop by this evening, be so kind as to inform us first.” 

Yaxley cast another charm that lit all the candles in the room and she could see a fully outfitted potions lab, a cauldron was softly simmering and a quick peek verified that it was only contraceptive. “Do you think the Polyjuice is brewed in house?” She started to flip through the recipe book that was sitting next to the cauldron. Love potions, contraceptives, healing potions, but no polyjuice.

“I doubt it.” Dolohov said next to her, pulling out drawers in the wooden tabletop and inspecting ingredients “It’s not nearly big enough, and the amount they must go through in a night would be astronomical.”

Hermione did the same and looked down into the drawer to see more knives and stirrers and chopping boards. Nothing of use. She moved towards the far wall of the cellar where more cabinets and books lay piled up. The cabinet was a knotty oak thing, with a fine sheen of dust and cobwebs surrounding it. She pulled on the latch and the whole room shook, potion vials clinked together and Dolohov looked up from the text he was reading.

“Sorry.” She said quietly and Dolohov moved swiftly over to her, yanking on the cabinet again, this time it came open with screams from upstairs and without so much as asking her, he picked her up by the waist and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind them.

She was pressed up against the shelves, even breathing made ingredients clink together and Dolohov was facing the door, warding them inside. The only light came from a few luminescent potion ingredients, making Dolohov merely a breathing shadow amongst all the rest. There was more screaming upstairs, muffled by the shut door. “Yaxley.” She breathed, suddenly worried for the auror they had left outside.

The cabinet shook and Dolohov moved towards her again, his hand reaching overhead to catch a jar. She could feel his hot breath against her cheek. There was the scrape of glass against wood as he put it back onto its shelf. “Stay close, Hermione.”

“What about Yaxley?”

She was pressed into Dolohov’s robes, his hand around her waist pulling him close as she listened to the wandfighting and screams outside. “Ministry of Magic, please discard your wands and come outside peacefully.”

She tensed against him and Dolohov dug his fingers into her side, bracing against the shelves of potions ingredients as they rattled and fell around them.

“They know.” She whispered into his shirt. “They know.”

He bent his head over her, his lips brushing against her hair “Doubtful.” 

“Auror Yaxley.” A voice came through the wood as clear as it would next to her ear: Mad Eye Moody. “You always seem to be turnin’ up where we come lookin’”

She heard the cauldron clatter to the ground and jumped. Dolohov hushed her and she pressed her hands against his chest, twisting her fingers into the fabric.

“Ex-auror Moody, I see they’re letting you participate in raids again, is it the old boy’s club giving you another joy ride? How many girls are going to suddenly forget your name?”

“Death Eater scum.” The cabinet rattled and Hermione forgot to breathe. Dolohov pulled her tighter against him, she was convinced that he thought they could disappear if they got close enough together. “Where’s your fuckbuddy, Yaxley?”

“Who?”

“Dolohov.”

“Care to give me a reason not to arrest you right now, Moody?” Yaxley’s voice was smooth as silk.

“Because, Corban, the boys club is upstairs, and you’re downstairs with no witnesses.” Moody’s voice sounded dangerous “How many whores can Corban Yaxley kill in one night? The Prophet wants t’ know.”

“Won’t The Prophet want to know what some washed up has-been was doing in a brothel on a Tuesday?“ Yaxley shot back “Or is that not in the cards?”

“Watch your mouth.” Mad Eye snapped “You seem to be turnin’ up in all the wrong spots lately, Yaxley, you and your fuckbuddy. I wouldn’t wan’ to see what happened t’you if you turned up in Lacock again.”

“Oh?”

“We’ll just leave it as a warning, the  _ boys club _ is ready to ruin you, and your scummy dogs that ‘ave been runnin’ ‘round the ministry.” Moody’s voice lowered “Don’t think I don’t know the tracer you put on a certain schoolgirl’s wand, pervert.”

Hermione closed her eyes and focused on Dolohov’s heartbeat. They knew, they knew  _ everything _ and they were waiting to take her back as some sort of prisoner. She was a traitor, cozying up to a Death Eater in a cupboard of a brothel.

“And why would a non-Ministry employee know anything about the wand records?” Yaxley asked, there was a clinking of vials, and then it sounded like someone kicked the cauldron because it clattered up against the cupboard, startling her. Dolohov hushed her and held her closer. She tried to relax, but she felt as if at any moment the door was going to open and they were going to rip her out of his arms.

“We know Corban, we know a  _ lot _ of things that’s been goin’ on, and a lot of those things you need to stop gettin’ your nose into, unless you want it cut off.”

“All clear!” A voice she remembered well, Kingsley, shouted from somewhere upstairs.

Dolohov was hushing her, holding her close, and she didn’t realize it, not until the shouting upstairs stopped that she was shaking, and it wasn’t until Yaxley opened the cupboard, that she realized she had been crying. Her eyes stung and Yaxley’s outline was blurry through her tears.

“They know. I’m a traitor. I’ve betrayed them.”

“They don’t know yet, love, no tears.” He offered his hand out to her and she took it, but her fingers got tangled up in something as she reached out to take it.

She turned her head and in the candlelight saw something truly horrifying. A wall of bundles of hair, tied up in ribbon and hung on hooks, and next to each was a photo and a name. The wall was taller than her and Dolohov.

“Oh.” Yaxley said turning to look where she was looking “Oh no.”

There were hundreds.

* * *

 

She had taken a shower to get the disgusting feeling of the brothel off of her and thrown on Dolohov’s shirt and some of Yaxley’s pajama bottoms. All three of their wands lay on the cleared off coffee table, on the floor, in stacks, were photos of dead prostitutes, missing women who were murdered before turning up again in The Pickwick Witches as novelties.

“They must have known.” She said, sitting down next to Yaxley who was flipping through image after image “The timing on that raid was too precise.”

“Tracers.” Yaxley picked up his wand and snapped it before putting the broken pieces back on the table. “They’ve been following us this whole time.” 

Wisps of magic came out in a small cloud before disappearing into the air. He went back to flicking through images taken on a muggle polaroid, the white border had names, and all the corpses looked so  _ fresh _ as they lay on grasses, on pavement, on carpeting, and stared up at the camera, their hair was a mess, their makeup was smeared.

Dolohov sat down last, three glasses of firewhiskey in his hand. “Oh, you started without me.” He said and passed Hermione two glasses, she dutifully passed on one.

“I suppose.” Yaxley said stacking the photos neatly before tossing them next to his shattered wand “This is the  _ in or out _ bit that we’re going to do with you.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione smoothed out her pants a bit and tried to contain the nerves, tried to look away from the stacks of dead women on their floor.

“You have two options: you’re either in, or you’re out.” Dolohov said, taking a sip of his firewhiskey. “If you’re in, snap your wand. If you’re out, here’s your portkey home.”

He slid an empty picture frame across the coffee table, bumping his wand as he put it in front of her.  _ HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY _ was written in building blocks across the bottom.

“You’ll teach me how to do wandless magic?” She asked, reaching for the portkey.

“Of course.” Yaxley and Dolohov said together.

She reached past her portkey and grabbed her wand, looking down at the photos of hundreds of dead girls. Which ones in this pile had Arthur Weasley tried to  _ make forget _ . Was Lewis Catchepoole going to turn her into one of these girls? One of the Pickwick Witches' polyjuice specials?

She snapped her wand, and Dolohov followed. The air smelled like burning wood and magic. Hermione Granger was no victim.

“Try it.” Dolohov said and tossed a bag of crisps on the table “ _ Wingardium Leviosa _ .”

“What do I do?” She said, pointing her finger as a makeshift wand.

Yaxley laughed through his firewhiskey, and pushed her hand down on her lap. “Just  _ try it _ .”

She felt her face flush and looked at the crisps. “ _ Wingardium Leviosa _ .” 

The crisps floated and Dolohov took a sip of his firewhiskey. “See?”

“How did you know?”

“It’s about potency.” He gave her a smile that warmed her.

She took a sip of the firewhiskey and it burned all the way down.

“You’re a traitor now, Hermione Granger, how does it feel?” Yaxley asked leaning back against the couch that they both sat on.

Her eyes were alight. “Warm.”

It was the truth.

“Cheers to that.” Yaxley said beside her, ruffling her hair and clinking his glass with hers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to me.
> 
> To be honest the next chapter is so spicy, but enjoy some Antonin Hermione time ahead of that. From here on out things start to warm up, so please look forward to it!


	11. Murder of Innocence

She was sitting at a hotel bar in a slinky black dress they had picked up at a Topshop on the way there, they were meeting a woman who knew one of the dead prostitutes. She was brushing her fingers over an advertisement that had her name on it “In-room Massage, Victoria LaGenue, and Mercedes Benoit.” It was completely by luck that they had found this advertisement in some entertainment rag after Yaxley had said he knew how to find a whore.

She was trapped in a small room with Mercedes, she dragged her body to the morgue. Mercedes was looking back at her now in a tight little dress, with her fingers tangled in her hair. Dolohov was standing next to her at the bar, nursing a whiskey sour.

Yaxley was close to the door, every so often he’d look back at the two of them and give her a reassuring smile. “Mister Feodorovna, and a Missus?” a woman cooed softly beside them.

Dolohov tensed next to her and she turned slowly towards the bar to see a beautiful woman leaning over with a smile and beautiful curly brown hair. “That’s us.” Hermione said quietly, looking back up at Dolohov.

“I see you’ve started without me.” She summoned the bartender and Hermione shifted “I’m jealous.”

“Victoria?” Yaxley said “It’s good to see you.”

“Three will be fun, four makes it a party.” She said, as a cocktail was placed in front of her. She took Hermione’s hand and Yaxley inhaled. “Do you party often, love?”

“It’ll be my first.” She said and looked back up at Dolohov who had his hand hovering near his wand “But I’ve heard you’re an expert.”

“And you all have a room here?” She squeezed Hermione’s hand, Victoria smelled like wildflowers and vanilla.

Yaxley produced a keycard and a twenty pound note for the drinks. “Love, we are always prepared to party.” 

Victoria bounced out of her seat and took Yaxley’s arm, Hermione felt a flare of jealousy, and bit her lip. Yaxley wasn’t hers in the slightest, she shouldn’t  _ feel _ any bit of possession over him, but as those perfectly manicured fingers ran up his arms and she laughed at a private joke, her face brushing against his shoulder, made envy roil around her. When did she become so petty? When did she become so petty over Yaxley?

Dolohov pulled her closer and leaned down as they walked to the elevators “Who knew that green was your color?”

She looked up at him incredulously and he gave her a smile before squeezing her waist. “I’m not green.” She shot back.

“A little.” Dolohov insisted as the elevator doors opened.

“Get real Dol-dear.” She corrected herself, realizing that they were not alone.

“Newlyweds?” Victoria asked, leaving Yaxley’s side as the elevator closed and attaching herself to Dolohov. “Adventurous newlyweds?”

Dolohov gave Hermione a smirk and turned towards Victoria, leaning down so that his mouth was inches from Victoria's ear. “A little.” He repeated.

She didn’t care. Of course she didn’t care. She squirmed out of Dolohov’s grasp and just stood between the two men, leaning back against the metal elevator as the numbers kept going up and up. She felt a little vertigo as the numbers went into the twenties, and braced herself against the bar. “Alright, love?” It was Yaxley.

She didn’t like heights. Thirty came and went, and only when it hit thirty six did it slow to a stop “Penthouse level, my, you really  _ know _ how to play.”

“I do,” Yaxley laughed and gave Hermione another concerned look “I do.”

Hermione was last to get off the elevator, it was the unease of being so high up, it was the unease of what was about to happen in the room with the prostitute, it was the unease of her feelings towards Yaxley and Dolohov. Dolohov held the door open for her and Yaxley offered his hand.

“I don’t like heights.” She explained.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Yaxley said as her hand slid into his. “Penthouse suites are not very fun with vertigo.” He pulled her into the carpeted hallway.

She was slow to walk and so Victoria hung back with her. “So, are you with him?” She asked, pointing to Dolohov “Or  _ him _ .” Her voice dropped an octave as she pointed to Yaxley.

Hermione looked at the two men who were ahead of them, Yaxley playing with the keycard in one hand. “It’s a bit of a story.” She said and Yaxley stopped.

“It is, isn’t it?” He said sliding the keycard into the lock, there was a chime and the door opened. “Be a love, Anna, and get our guest some champagne.”

The penthouse suite was bigger than Hermione thought hotel rooms  _ could _ be. Definitely bigger than Yaxley and Dolohov’s apartment. Cream tile flooring led to steps that included the sunken living room. Before them was all of London, glittering in the darkness from the floor to ceiling windows.

Dolohov went in first, taking off his suit jacket and disappearing into the bedroom, followed by Yaxley. “Ah,” Victoria said beside her “They want me to  _ prep _ you, I suppose. Get undressed love.”

Hermione froze. “What do you mean, prep? We’re getting champagne first.” 

Victoria shook her head and her curls bounced “We do the ladylike things, and come in as sort of a  _ present _ . For the gentlemen.” Suddenly her dress was unzipped and Hermione tried to hold it in place. “Good things come in pairs: shoes, and women.”

“Wait, plea-”

Victoria rummaged around in her small bag and pulled on Hermione’s hair. “Well, I hope they like it wild.”

She tried to stop the woman from pulling on her hair and the dress fell to the floor and Hermione was left in her plain black cotton underthings. She couldn’t call Yaxley or Dolohov  _ now _ to help her, she somehow had to get the woman settled so they could start to ask her questions.

“Hermione, love, what’s tak-” Yaxley looked at her and then looked away.

“Sorry, her hair is a bit of a wild thing, just give me a few moments.” Victoria said pulling her hair back.

“What is it?” Dolohov’s voice asked.

“No, no, no” Hermione buried her face in her hands. “Stay in the other room!”

Yaxley was pleading “Victoria, Dolohov  _ do not _ .”

There was a yelp and then suddenly the brush that was yanking on her hair was gone and so was the girl. A sportscoat was placed around her shoulders and she looked up to see Yaxley who was trying to look anywhere but her.

“Do not touch her.” Dolohov’s voice was low and Hermione put her arms through the coat, snatching up her dress. His voice sounded deadly. “Do  _ not _ touch her.”

“Okay! Jesus, I just thought-” Victoria snapped, taking off her heels and heading towards the couch “Isn’t this a foursome? Isn’t this some kind of lesbian orgy fantasy business?”

“Victoria.” Hermione said, trying to calm herself by smoothing down her hair and grabbing the bottle of champagne “We’re here to ask you about Mercedes.”

“Cops?”

Yaxley shook his head “Not cops, concerned parties.” Yaxley held up a wad of hundred pound notes “with cash.” 

The cash was gone as soon as it had appeared in Yaxley’s hand and she began to count it. “Did you find Mercedes, or are you looking to find her?” 

Hermione sat down across from Victoria and popped the bottle of champagne and it spewed all over herself and Yaxley laughed as she tried to stop it from spilling all over his suit “Sorry, oh it got everywhere.”

Dolohov looked red and went to go retrieve glasses, after Hermione had poured all four flutes and everyone had settled around the sunken living room did Yaxley begin to talk.

“We found her yesterday, she had been dead for a few days before that.” Yaxley said sipping his champagne and putting his arm around the back of the couch, Hermione ducked a little before settling back into the couch “Who was her last client?”

Victoria seemed to be debating telling them that information and Dolohov shifted in his seat. Hermione sipped her champagne as the other woman clinked her nails against the full flute. “There’s been a  _ gig _ that girls have gotten lately, to get out of the lifestyle.” Victoria began slowly before taking a sip “It’s kind of like a guardian angel type thing, only high end girls, white girls, pretty girls, get this deal.”

“Who’s been giving this deal out?” Yaxley asked “I assume it’s pretty high end.”

“It’s a brothel, of sorts, I guess, you get approached by a woman, she’s never the same woman twice, but she’s  _ always  _ the same woman, if you know what I mean, and you get adopted into the house. Kind of a Playboy mansion type deal, but only for the super rich. Mostly political clients, they do some bloodwork before you get adopted into the system, no diseases, no STDs, and then you’re in.”

“And?” Yaxley asked.

“You know, the girls come back sometimes, to tell us about it, but they’re never the same, you know how money changes people.” Victoria offered her empty champagne flute out to Hermione, but Yaxley took it and refilled it. “They’re too good to talk to their  _ old _ friends, but they’ll sell us on the guardian angel deal. When you’re ready, when you’re chosen, five kay a month minimum, room and board paid for, kiss the hustle goodbye.”

“Have you been chosen ever, Victoria?” 

She shook her head and showed her arm as some kind of proof “Too dark, a little too gypsy for those angels. Heaven is only for pretty white girls.”

“Is that what this place is called?” Dolohov asked.

She nodded. “Heaven is in Wiltshire.” Victoria said downing another glass of champagne. “Who would have thought?”

“Wiltshire? Lacock?” Hermione asked. It was a stretch, nothing really happened in her small town.

“Bingo.” Victoria took the bottle of champagne and stood up, grabbing her shoes with her free hand. “Cheers loves, and Hermione, you don’t have to choose.”

Hermione tilted her head and tried to process the warning, or the advice. She wasn’t sure. Choose what? Was Victoria under the impression that she was a prostitute too?

Yaxley got up first and escorted her out of the room. Hermione nursed the champagne and she felt the warmth of his magic. She knew before he even got back that Victoria wouldn’t remember anything about what had happened in this penthouse suite or what she had said.

Yaxley came back with a smile and a bottle of champagne. “Heaven may be in Lacock, but the Ministry paid for this, so it’s as close to heaven as I’m getting tonight, right love?”

She sipped the champagne, it was a tarty sweet champagne that she had to slow herself from drinking too much of. “White girls only, posh girls only.” Hermione hummed “and a woman who is never the same woman twice.”

“And blood? Vampires?” Dolohov asked

“Well,” Hermione said getting up, realizing that Dolohov was staring at her, realizing that it wasn’t just the champagne making her warm. “They could somehow know that muggles _ do _ test for diseases in the blood, or they could be using the blood for something else.”

She walked along the floor to ceiling window, vertigo fighting with the buzz of champagne, looking over the city that stretched out before her and sipped her champagne. Her fingers skimmed the glass and she thought on what Victoria said before she left.

Dolohov’s reflection was in the window behind her, he had a full glass of champagne and a half empty bottle dangling in his other hand. “Refill?”

She looked up at him. How often was she going to be in a posh central hotel with two Death Eaters and a bottle of champagne that had a astronomical price? She offered her flute. “What do you think it means?”

“Honestly?” He asked her, looking out over the city after he handed her the glass back.

She nodded and sipped more champagne.

“I think it means The Order has been running a prostitution ring to fund their war effort, we have Malfoy and LeStrange, and they have a bit of Heaven.” Dolohov said.

She shook her head “It doesn’t add up. Why was Lewis Catchepoole after me?” 

“Maybe you were too close, maybe you met a girl?” Dolohov said and looked down on her “It doesn’t matter now, not like he’ll be able to get within ten meters of you at this rate.”

“She’s right though,” Yaxley said standing on the other side of her and peering down at London. “There’s something else, there’s a lot to set up for a prostitution ring, especially a muggle one dealing with high profile clients. There’s something else in Lacock.”

“Something to do with me, something to do with my parents, and something to do with the  _ real _ Lewis Catchepoole.”

“War isn’t cheap.” Dolohov groused, trying to support his argument.

“So I’m learning.” Hermione said stepping away from the window and starting to explore the expansive suite.

“Speaking of learning. Perhaps, you can tell us what this bath is doing in the bedroom? Is this a muggle thing?” Yaxley took her along by the elbow. “And perhaps, ‘tonin, you can get us some more of this?” He lifted his flute.

“A hot tub?” She asked before turning the corner into the master suite, and she had the sinking realization that this was the  _ only _ bed in the penthouse suite.

Ten minutes later, she was sitting on the rim of the hot tub drinking a glass of champagne, trying to decide when the polite time was to tell them she would be sleeping on the couch and it was getting late. She looked up from the swirling water to see Dolohov leading what appeared to be room service into the bedroom while he argued that he needed to come into  _ this _ room to ask what they wanted.

“Well?” He asked and pointed to the confused bellman.

Hermione held up the bottle of champagne “More of this, and some dinner I think?”

“Chicken or Beef?” Dolohov asked.

“Beef.”

 

* * *

 

 

She was wet and warm with a pounding headache and for the life of her couldn’t remember why she had woke up in the first place. She had her face buried in Dolohov's chest, their fingers laced together as he hugged her with his free hand and Yaxley was nestled up behind her in the large bed, his arm draped around her waist. All three of them had wet hair, and the covers were a bit damp too. Why was she up? Why was she in bed with two grown men?

She squirmed a bit and Dolohov hugged her tighter. She pushed against his chest to try and wake him up, but all he did was snuffle a bit in his sleep. She heard a glass clink and then someone curse quietly. Panic overrode the pounding headache and she shifted in the bed and turned towards Yaxley. His eyes were staring back at her, his blonde hair, now unbound, framed his face, obscuring him somewhat from her.

Yaxley put his fingers up to her mouth and she could see by the dim light in the room that he was mouthing “Don’t.”

It was strange to say that she could  _ feel _ the presence in the room when almost all her vision was obscured by the huge comforter that the three of them were under. It felt like a cool breeze after a storm and then Yaxley shot up first as Dolohov held her in bed.

With a wand, Yaxley was fluidity, but without one, he was grace, in a flurry of fine bedding he was on top of the bed and then across the room. A shout and a few thuds and then  _ silence _ . Dolohov let her up and she looked down to see she was in her wet underwear, a few bottles of champagne were in bed with them. Yaxley had a woman pinned down on the floor in the doorway, his blonde hair was curtaining his body, kinky from his braid still, half of it still wet. 

“Who?” Hermione managed to say, sitting up in bed but as she moved she saw a flash of pink hair. “A woman who is never the same woman twice: a metamorphmagus.”

“Idiot woman, you should have silencio’d the lock.” Dolohov said next to her and relaxed “You’re alright?”

Hermione pressed the heel of her hand into her forehead trying to quell the throbbing headache. “Alive. Even Tonks? Merlin. Is there anyone at the Ministry who isn’t dirty?”

Tonks was petrified on the floor and Yaxley stood up once he had retrieved her wand. “Ward the room, there’s no way in hell a junior auror is alone.”

The room glowed as Dolohov got out of bed, she realized he was setting up wards without even bothering to move his hand in the wand movements. He left the room and there was a rattle of glasses and a  _ snick _ of the door closing. 

“Hermione.” Yaxley said, looking relieved as she got out of bed, now that adrenaline had left, she was feeling decidedly sick. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head and stumbled to the bathroom, tripping slightly on the foot of an auror who she considered her friend, who she considered  _ good _ until now. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet and pulled back her hair.

All the champagne came out with all of her innocence. Who wasn’t evil in this war? Even Tonks? She felt a warm hand on her back, and then suddenly someone was holding her hair for her. She looked up with blurry eyes to see Antonin Dolohov giving her a wan smile. Hermione wondered as she fumbled for the toilet handle. Was she turning evil too? She began to gag again and Antonin laughed “You love alcohol more than you can handle alcohol, little girl.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Food makes me gag,” she said as room service was wheeled into the room, it was around five in the morning, Hermione was surprised room service was up and willing to make her toast and Yaxley’s top five hangover cures: eggs, bacon, more eggs, mashed potatoes, and a bloody mary.

Yaxley tossed her a bottle of Pellegrino from the white clothed cart and sat down next to her. She was sitting next to Dolohov, and across from a petrified Nymphadora Tonks. “This first.” Yaxley said and handed her a white plate with two pieces of wheat toast “And that, and try to wake her.”

Hermione cracked the lid, wearing Dolohov’s oversized shirt, her hair tied back in a ribbon. “Okay.” She exhaled and tried to imagine the wand movements in her mind for the  _ ennerverate _ . She didn’t want to move her hand, she didn’t want to even  _ seem _ like she was casting. She mouthed the word and then.

“Hermione Granger?”

She opened her eyes to see a furious Tonks bound across from her, awake and spitting mad. Hermione sipped her water nervously and eyed Yaxley.

“Next time, I don’t think you need to mouth the spell, love.” Yaxley said ignoring her. “The spells itself is just an extension of your will. Your mind asks, your magic works.”

Dolohov got up from the couch and rummaged around his sports coat before he withdrew a few vials, and read the label on each. “A truth serum, and a friend maker.” He handed her one. “Share.”  
He pulled Tonk’s pink hair and her whole head tilted back, her hair glowed a fiery red. He stuck the vial in her mouth and emptied the contents. Tonks began to cough but he held her jaw shut. “Swallow.”

Hermione tried to swallow her guilt with a sip of the hangover potion, it was bitter. She handed the vial to Yaxley who took another sip before handing it out to Dolohov who sat down next to Hermione, snatching some of her toast.

“Name?” Yaxley said boredly next to her.

“Nymphadora Black.” Tonks replied dutifully.

“Position?”

“Junior Auror, Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“How did you know that we’d be here tonight, Junior Auror?” Yaxley said grabbing the Pellegrino from Hermione and taking a sip.

“An expense report came in at around eleven, with your name and this hotel.” Tonks said “We’ve been tailing you for weeks since you turned up in Lacock.”

“What’s so important about Lacock?” Dolohov continued because Yaxley was cussing himself out for filing paperwork.

“We are running an operation out of Lacock, when your magical signatures turned up in the area we thought you had caught wind of it.” Tonks said and slid her eyes sideways “but instead you caught Hermione Granger.”

“What kind of operation?” Hermione insisted “A brothel?”

Tonks didn’t answer, then she flinched, her face scrunched up in pain. “A brothel.” She gasped

Dolohov shifted a bit, Hermione realized that he was cursing the auror. “It’s best that you don’t resist me, junior auror.”

“So you’re in the business of sex slavery?” Hermione pressed “You’re enslaving muggles to do what? To make money for what?”   


“It’s for the greater good, you don’t know what it  _ costs _ to resist  _ their _ lord, Hermione.” Tonks pleaded for reason “It’s a small price to pay, they were alre-”

“You’re  _ enslaving _ women, you’re...you’re justifying it!” Hermione’s voice broke “Is your salary made by forcing some other woman to fuck a politician? Is Mrs. Weasley’s cooking paid for by someone else’s...by someone else’s cunt?”

“War isn’t cheap, and they were already doing it, it’s just a little off the top, and they-”

“War isn’t cheap, but apparently your morals are, Tonks.” Hermione said, rage boiled up within her and she tugged on the hem of her shirt “What does Lewis Catchepoole have to do with any of this?”

Tonks remained silent and Hermione leaned over the table, grabbing the woman’s shirt. “Tell me what he wanted with me! Was I going to be another muggle sex slave for you to pad your salary with?”

Tonks eyes changed from a brown to a brilliant blue “We all make sacrifices for this war. You can’t win unless you lose a little.”

Hermione stood up straight, looking down at the auror that had tried to snatch her out of her hotel room, who was admitting to war crimes on her couch. What  _ was _ she fighting for anymore?

“What is Percy Weasley doing at the Muggle Ministry?” Dolohov asked, tugging Hermione back down on the couch.

“For the Minister’s protection of course.” Tonks said as if it was obvious.

“And Lewis Catchepoole?” Yaxley pressed again.

Tonks didn’t reply.

Yaxley got up, his long blonde hair fell forward as he leaned over the bound auror, and he tilted her head up gently. “ _ Legillimens _ .”

Tonks struggled for a bit, tears running out of her eyes as Yaxley tore through her mind and then she collapsed on the couch, her fiery red hair turning a dull brown.

“Nothing.” Yaxley shook his head “ _ Nothing _ .”

Hermione grabbed a toast off the table and stared at it, trying to decide if she could eat anything after what she had heard. The Order was using sex slaves to fund their war effort. There was still no evidence on what Lewis Catchepoole had wanted with her, and she had sat by as the three of them tortured and questioned her friend until she passed out.

“Clean it up. Her memories are wiped.” Yaxley said, running his hands back through his hair, looking over at Hermione. “Fuck.”

She propped Tonks up in the elevator after Dolohov had obliviated her, hoping to somehow make up for the torture, to somehow apologize even as she felt revulsion. She pressed the lobby button and backed out into Yaxley who looked worse for wear.

The elevator doors closed and the numbers above the golden doors started to descend.

“There’s no good side, is there?” She said, looking at the numbers, they started to get blurry. “It’s either enslavement or death, for me, isn’t it?”

Yaxley pulled her close. “No love, it’s neither for you.”

But what about everyone else?

* * *

 

 

BONUS: Hot Tub Scene (Yaxley POV)

 

The girl loved champagne. She loved champagne and wine, and she loved the large muggle bath that she called the “hot tub”. She was currently playing with a champagne flute, watching it bob across the waters as the jets churned the water the three of them sat in. They were listening to Tchaikovsky and Corban was trying to relax and forget about the bill for the fourth bottle of £150 champagne that she had ordered without him knowing. He laid his head back against the edge of the hot tub and listened to the ostinato of the waltz. He had undone his tight braid and his hair was floating around him in the waters, despite Antonin telling him it was just going to become a mess. Antonin was half drunk and half under water as it was, he wasn’t in a position to tell him what to do.

“Yaxley.” Her voice was suddenly next to his ear.

“Yes, love?” He didn’t move. He didn’t even want to open his eyes, she looked like sin personified in that wet little black cotton set.

“I like your hair.” She said quietly, her warmth brushed up against him as she slid onto his lap. He was wearing boxer briefs but it didn’t feel like  _ enough _ .

He opened his eyes and looked at the vixen that was sitting on his lap but was otherwise occupied watching her champagne flute that was bobbing through the water. “Don’t tell, okay?” She gave him a wink that ended up just being an over-exaggerated blink and he couldn’t believe she was real sometimes.

“I heard.” Antonin said behind her, teasingly. “I know that you like his hair.”

She looked alarmed turned her face away from Antonin, covering her mouth with her hand. 

He laughed at her innocence “It’s okay, love, Antonin won’t tell.”

Her eyes were alight and she leaned in close, her fingers playing with his hair as she leaned in closer. “Make him promise.”

She smelled like a fresh shower and summer. Corban shifted so she wasn’t in so much direct contact, but if he moved too much her fingers pulled on his hair. “I doubt that I can make Antonin do anything.” He tried to move so that she was in a more comfortable position, but it wasn’t working, every part of her was threatening to brush up against his groin “Little love, let go of my hair so we can both be comfortable.”

She slid off his lap in a huff and went over to sit next to Antonin. “Hey!” She said looking up at him, the champagne flute floating past her.

“Brat.” He said, grabbing her champagne and putting it on the ledge. “Your buoy cost about thirty pounds a glass.”

“Can you promise?”

Antonin gave him a look that was equal parts, disbelief and amusement. “Promise what, ungrateful princess?”

She seemed to forget that they were talking for a bit because she watched the jets churn bubbles up to the surface of the hot tub. “Hey Antonin?”

“Yes?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Did you really want to kill me?”

Corban watched Antonin struggle with a few things in the split second it took to answer. Confusion and anger as his eyes briefly flickered to the white scar that cut down Hermione’s body. “If I told you it was an accident, would you believe me?”

She nodded.

“It was an accident.” He affirmed, his hand coming out of the water and touching her white scar on her chest briefly, tracing the line that stood out in stark contrast to her red skin. “If we did it all over again, I’d snap my wand before cursing you, princess. Merlin knows I think about that night all the time.”

“I believe you.” She said finally, grabbing his hand and lacing her fingers with his. “I believe you because I’m not dead, and Antonin Dolohov is a great duelist, but Corban Yaxley-” She looked over at Corban furtively before lowering her voice so that it was barely audible over the rumble of the jets in the hot tub “has really great hair.”

Antonin gave her one of those genuine smiles that Corban saw only once a year at best as the girl studied Antonin’s fingernails for some kind of divinity. Then a smile spread across her face “More champagne?”

Corban looked at the fellytone that she had been using to call the muggle house elves as if she could somehow use it from the hot tub. Antonin looked panicked.

“Come here, little love.” Corban said, shifting in the tub and she obeyed diligently, sliding on his lap and pulling on Antonin’s hand. She refused to let go, and so all three of them sat on one side.

“I talked to Antonin.” She said, her head on her free hand as she sat on Corban’s lap.

“You did?”

“I did.” She agreed and tucked some of Corban’s gold hair behind his ear, her fingers following the strands all the way down to the water. “He didn’t promise, but  _ I know _ .”

She yawned and sank lower in the water, her chin resting on Corban’s shoulder, her fingers still playing with his hair, and then, she nestled her nose into the crook of his neck and was dead to the world. After a few moments the jets shut off and the two of them sat while she slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Apparently Yaxley does have long hair in the movie and I just never paid close enough attention! I do love how the both of them seem to dote on her. Enjoy the bonus scene.


	12. Saints and Sinners

They were back at the coroner’s in the late morning, she was still wearing her little black topshop dress, her hair pulled back into a severe braid to match Yaxley’s. She felt dirty and hollow. In two weeks The Order was going to come for her, and if they found her missing, Harry would be devastated. 

“An old family if I ever knew one, she’s about as British as they come,” the coroner said, handing Yaxley a file folder “Tox screens came back negative, although…” He trailed off as Yaxley looked at the profile they had on the victim.

Mercedes was actually a Bridget Fitzroy, and she was twenty three, an English major at Oxford, and had been reported missing two months prior. “Although?” Hermione pressed.

“Well, I thought it could have been cocaine at first, but it came back negative, it actually ended up being pearl dust. Perhaps a new makeup trend? It was far up her nose, she had to been inhaling that stuff for weeks. And of course we identified the semen.”

“And?” Dolohov asked.

“And now I understand why it was a military matter, perhaps a  _ minister _ matter would be more accurate.” The coroner looked like the cat who ate the canary. A smug smile that pushed his glasses up.

Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from saying anything.

“We hope you understand that this matter requires the utmost discretion.” Yaxley continued smoothly, flipping through the rest of the toxicology reports.

“Well I know that Ten Downing has a history of buying secre-” The coroner collapsed on the floor.

“Merlin, Antonin, couldn’t you at least let the man finish his sentence.” Yaxley sighed and handed the file folder to her. She took it and began to thumb through it. “I’m starting to get an idea of why Percy Weasley is there and it has nothing to with protection and everything to do with extortion.”

She found herself pouring tea at the Prime Minister’s residence, Yaxley had invited them in, and Dolohov had seated them in the tea room. “Tell him we’re waiting, won’t you?” Yaxley said watching Hermione.

“He’s at a meeting until three.” The undersecretary wrung his hands and looked at the three of them and Hermione looked up.

“That’s why we’re waiting.” She said and began to pour another cup.

“Right, of course.” The undersecretary replied and closed the door.

“And if a Percy Weasley pops round, you’ll send him our way, won’t you?” Yaxley called.

“Right away, sir.” Came a muffled reply.

There was something infectious about Yaxley’s confidence when it came to waltzing into Ten Downing as if it was his summer residence and demanding an audience with anyone he deemed worthy. She looked up at him, his hair now braided tightly behind his head as he swirled the sugar into his tea. He was not a classical beauty, but he had the hard edges of a marble sculpture, and when he gave her a smile she felt warm. He smiled at her so often, that soft one that was reserved only when she was looking. The one he was giving her now.

“If it was just money,” Yaxley explained as he sipped his tea finally “Then it’d be easy to just kill the girls, and use the Pickwick Witches, why have two brothels? That’s a lot of upkeep.”

“It’s easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar.” Dolohov said beside Hermione, he leaned back on the small couch with a biscuit. “It’s easier to have the Muggle Ministry in your pocket when you’re in charge of their  _ honey _ .”

“Right.” Yaxley said “But, if that’s all it was, then what’s the point of the magical brothel? Two brothels is a lot of upkeep.”

“To cover their tracks?” Hermione volunteered. “And for extra income? To sell an identity, that must cost a lot, considering what they charge for the polyjuice specials.”

“To cover their tracks from whom? The muggle ministry doesn’t care, the ministry of magic cares even less. Something doesn’t fit.” Yaxley leaned back in his chair and looked out the window on the far end of the room. “We have to get into Heaven, and I do believe our dear Minister will be willing to give us the keys.”

“So, extortion?” Hermione said, stirring milk into her tea, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Extortion.” Dolohov repeated with some finality.

She looked over at the Death Eater who was holding a tea cup in one hand and a biscuit in the other. His suit was perfectly pressed despite being Hermione’s loungewear all last night and for some of this morning. He held out the biscuit to her and raised an eyebrow.

“How long do you think the Prime Minister has been at the beck and call of The Order?” Hermione asked, taking his biscuit.

“Oh,” Yaxley said with a smile “Probably since ninety one? That’s when things started going to shit for Catchepoole, why not this office as well?”

Could she even go back to Hogwarts knowing that it was run by someone who was blackmailing the Prime Minister and enslaving British women? The three of them lapsed into comfortable silence

“Yaxley! Anna! It’s so good to see you.” The Prime Minister burst through the door with a broad smile. “Business or just dropping by?”

“Sad to say that we’re here on some business.” Yaxley said and extended his hand out to Hermione “Give the Minister that folder, love.”

Hermione handed it to the Prime Minister who took a seat on the couch opposite of her, she began to pour him a cup of tea as he looked over the folder. Yaxley took a small post it out of his suit jacket and unfolded it, sticking it on top of whatever page he was looking at.

“We’ve done you a favor, you’re doing us a favor.”

“You killed her.” The Minister looked shocked, his eyes travelled up from the pages to Yaxley. “Arthur...well he just makes them forget.”

“She was found dead.” Dolohov said taking another biscuit off the plate. “Strangled, and the last person to stick his dick in her was you.”

“I mean, I’m sure a lot of people have...well it was her  _ job _ .” The Minister shut the file folder and looked at Hermione.

“Sugar or Cream?” She asked.

Yaxley cracked a smile.

“Some cream, thanks.” The Minister replied, dumbfounded.

“I need you to get us into Heaven.” Yaxley said, plucking the file folder from the Minister’s lap “or I’m going to make your life hell.” Yaxley chuckled as did Dolohov.

Hermione looked up sharply “That was awful.”   


“I thought it was rather good.” Yaxley defended.

The Minister stood up “Now wait right there, you don’t have any  _ right _ to...to blackmail me into-”

“Into what? Who has the right then? Arthur Weasley?” Yaxley goaded.

The Minister frowned “Arthur is different, Arthur is helping me keep this administration in line, like he always has! Like you’re supposed to! The magical community is here to help me keep all these people in line.”

“That’s why he kept his boy to keep an eye on you? To help you keep your people in line? Or to make sure you stay in line yourself?” Yaxley asked.

The Prime Minister of England looked desperately at Hermione and approached her, but Yaxley stood up first “She’s not in the best of spirits today after she found out about your little sex trafficking ring, Mister Minister.”

“Listen, this is about magimuggle relations, we’re on good terms! They keep our people in line, they keep my cabinet out of scandal, and all I have to do is ignore some old arrests from a few years back, and some missing whores.” The Minister said his hands up in a mock surrender “Arthur-”

“Who you claimed not to know last time we were here.” grumbled Hermione.

“Who told me not to mention our deal, told me all I had to do was nothing. Always use a Weasley when I needed something magical, and ignore any requests from others. It was easy enough!”

“So, how are you going to get us into Heaven, Mister Minister?” Yaxley pressed.

The Prime Minister’s eyes flew to Hermione. “Not everyone, just her.”

“No.” Yaxley and Dolohov both replied.

Hermione shook her head. “It’s our best shot of getting into Heaven, I can always use a calling card once I’m inside.”

“Love,” Yaxley protested “It’s dangerous.”

“I have to do it.” She insisted. “I  _ have  _ to.”

She had to save every last muggle woman who had gotten lured into Heaven by Tonks and the promise of money. She had to untangle these magimuggle relations that kept muggles enslaved. She  _ had  _ to.

Yaxley looked perplexed and Dolohov looked worried. The Prime Minister, however, looked relieved.

* * *

 

“Don’t worry Anna.” The Prime Minister cooed as they drove in his private car to Heaven “Heaven isn’t as scary as brothels usually are, it’s rather nice.”

Hermione was in her dirty topshop black dress, a sheath dress that hit a few inches above the knees. She wore sensible flat shoes and her hair was pulled up and out of the way. She had no pockets, so there was only one thing in her black clutch: a calling card. She was so incredibly tired, and tired of listening to the Prime Minister of England reassure her that everything was going to turn out fine and all of Yaxley and Dolohov’s death threats were nothing. She rested her chin on her hand and watched the countryside pass by. It was dark, but shadows of trees came out under the streetlamps. It was a long ride to Lacock. She kept herself busy by mulling over the appreciation she had for the way both men were worried about her.

They pulled up to a familiar spot and the Prime Minister stepped out. This was the wrong side of town, an empty lot, dogs barking, and the sidewalk where Yaxley had paced with the power bill. Hermione stepped out after him and he took her hand. “It only works if you’re touching, Yaxley will understand, right Anna?”

Secret Kept.

Hermione nodded and kept her mouth in a thin line and began to walk across the field next to the Prime Minister. The field began to grow and twist and before them, in a shimmering groan was an old estate with lights and flowers and music floating out open windows. “There she is, it’s magic, isn’t it?”

Hermione nodded and the large door opened to reveal a few beautiful women to welcome them “Mister Minister, you’ve returned with a new toy!” One girl giggled, leaning back against the open door in nothing but a pair of panties “We missed you!” 

“We missed you!” The other girls who were at the door cheered and the Prime Minister smiled.

“This is my good friend Anna, we’re going to spend a little time together before we  _ all _ spend a little time together.”

“Oh Anna! You’re so beautiful.” One of the naked women said as they stepped up the three stairs to the front door. 

There was a chorus of "Anna!" as they stepped inside.

The house smelled like cinnamon and musky desire. Hermione wished, in retrospect, that she would have recognized the scent for what it was. There were about twenty women in the estate. Some in collars, some in lingerie, some very loudly busy. They passed through the smoky foyer and up the curling staircase into the second floor. There were cries of “Prime Minister.” That sounded more like ecstasy than greetings and he waved at each and every one.

Hermione felt hot, the cinnamon smoke was setting her on fire and she wished she could open a window or two. Did these old houses not have air conditioning? Heat rose, and this old man decided to pick the hottest floor in the house? 

The Prime Minister knocked on a door and then opened it, revealing a large black satin room with a well made bed and plenty of mirrors. “Welcome, Anna.” The Prime Minister said, closing the door behind them “To my humble abode.”

Hermione turned to see him taking off his sportscoat and she looked over at the window that was already foggy with condensation. The cinnamon in the air made her vision a little blurry and then she was pushed back on the bed.

“This place just  _ does _ things, doesn’t it? It’s like a drug.” The Prime Minister said, his hair askew as he began to loosen his necktie “Don’t worry, everyone’s always wants a go at power, I won’t tell your friends.”

Hermione’s eyes widened as the top button came undone. She swore she must be sweating, she felt like she was going to jump out of her own skin. Where had the clutch gone? The silk bedding stuck to her skin, drawing her in. Where was the card? Shit, another button gone on the prime minister’s shirt, the hair on his chest clearly visible.  _ Accio _ , she pleaded, forgetting to breathe  _ accio _ .

The clutch hit her in the arm, and tingled. Desire shot through her body and she bit back a moan. She opened it and her fingers weren’t working, nothing was working, her mind was completely consumed by the thought of being touched, being enveloped in the delicious silk, the haze of musk and cinnamon fixing this fire within her.

“Don’t worry love, you’re beautiful enough for me, no need to fix your makeup.” The Prime Minister cooed and draped his tie on her feet. 

The calling card was in her hand, the vellum underneath her fingertips and then there was a  _ pop _ of two more men being added to the room. “Hermione?” It was Yaxley, his voice made her legs press together, she collapsed back on the bed.

She  _ felt _ the magic wash over her, the mint of Dolohov’s specific signature and the thump of the Prime Minister as he was stunned to the ground. Yaxley was on the bed first.  _ Cinnamon _ . Hermione opened her eyes to see him, he was looking down at her with concern.

“Hermione?”

“I’ve been cursed.” She said trying to move away from him. Even looking at Yaxley made her throb between her legs. “I’ve been cursed, gods.”

Yaxley held her face in his hands and she looked up at him. His touch was making her body  _ do _ things. “Does it hurt?” He asked, checking her over.

She couldn’t stop herself, she  _ had _ to, her body was demanding it. She leaned up and kissed him. He tensed under her touch, but only for the briefest of seconds, because soon his lips moved against hers, and his fingers tangled up in her hair, and then he was gone, a sacrifice to her desire.

She opened her eyes to see him staring at her, his breathing heavy, some of his hair out of his tight braid, Dolohov had his hand on his shoulder.

“No, Antonin.” Corban sounded miserable, she wanted to make it all better, she could, she planted kisses on his neck trying to make it better. “Please let me have this.”

“Touch me.” She begged “I need it.” She reached out to Antonin and grabbed his shirt, pulling him towards her. “ _ Touch me _ .”

Antonin’s looked at her like a thirsty man in a desert. and then suddenly he was on the bed with them, his hands on her waist behind her, his heat against hers, and Corban kissed her again, pushing the three of them together. Antonin’s lips were on her neck, his hands, strong and sure, were tracing her curves as Corban held her face tenderly. His tongue tracing her lips, begging her to open. She was going to melt between these two men. She was going to  _ die _ between them. Her body demanded release, her body demanded everything. They would give it to her, they would give her anything she asked for. The world was hers.

Corban broke the kiss and murmured her name in her ear, Antonin turned her head and brushed his lips against hers “Perfect, princess.” Antonin said before deepening the kiss.

She inhaled deeply through her nose, sighing as she was worshipped between them, Antonin’s musk filled her nostrils, it was the same scent as when she had stepped into the house, mixed with Corban’s fiery cologne, the whole house was made for them, everything was just perfect for the three of them. A house built for their pleasure alone.

She broke the kiss, the realization dawning, even as the zipper on her dress went down. The house. It smelled like them before they were even here. “Amortentia.” She moaned, Antonin’s hand touching her lower back as he pushed her dress aside “It’s in the air.”   


“No, it’s you, love.” Corban murmured, and then froze, pulling away from her. “Of course it was you. Fuck, oh fuck, oh Hermione.”

The window was broken and cold night air seeped into the room, and the cinnamon seeped out. Antonin stumbled off the bed and so did Corban. Hermione collapsed, breathing heavily. She could feel her desire in her black underwear, and squeezed her legs together, trying to curtail her need, trying to ignore how tightly wound she was after a few touches. She was so close.

Corban looked horrified as he stumbled over the prime minister, sitting in a chair on the far wall “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry. I would never-”

Hermione shook her head and closed her eyes. Shame made tears well up, and she wished she could banish it. “It’s my fault, the whole place smelled like your magic. I should have guessed.”

Desire ebbed into guilt and she covered her face with her hands. She  _ liked _ what they were doing. “We’re here.” Antonin said from the floor next to the bed, his head in his hands “We made it to Heaven.”

It was her hell.


	13. Death and the Divas

She would touch her lips every so often as they checked room after room in the estate. A bubblehead charm kept them from the amortentia, awkwardness kept them from standing too close to one another as they checked for  _ something _ that tied The Order to this place. They were quickly running out of rooms on the second floor.

She could still taste Antonin’s firewhiskey as they stood at the top of the stairs overlooking the foyer that was teeming with beautiful women, waiting for men, waiting for release as the amortentia seduced them before any man arrived to try. It must be torture, day in and day out lured under the spell, your whole body aching for release waiting for a man, any man, to undo you.

She was trying to find the source of the amortentia, it hung like a smog over the room, making everything fuzzy around the edges. She descended down the stairs and women rushed to meet her, or specifically the men trailing behind her. Is this how The Order kept muggles? Drugged and naked? A slave to desires? Pearl dust made sense, it was one of the main ingredients of the love potion. Bridget must have been trapped here for weeks.

“Oh! it’s the Minister’s friend.” A blonde girl with the body of a swimsuit model said as she hit the bottom step. “Do your friends need help?”

“I’m giving them a tour,” Hermione purred and looked up at the naked blonde who was eating a cup of fruit “Can you help?”

“Oh of course, sometimes it’s hard to find a room for  _ all _ of you.” She smiled sinfully, biting her tongue as her eyes moved from Hermione to the men behind her. “Come with me, gentlemen.”

“As you can see, the whole house is available, unless of course, it’s in use.” A giggle “Except for a few rooms that are  _ stictly _ off limits. The kitchen, of course, is through there for bubbly and  _ other _ needs.” She winked at Corban “The basement is off limits, but we’ve been begging for a dungeon, you know, for  _ other  _ needs.” She giggled again and continued her walking tour deeper into the estate. “The caretaker here says he may consider it soon, but he’s been saying that for ages.”

“The caretaker?”

“Well, it’s changed hands recently, we used to have a handsome devil who was only paid in visits, but he stopped coming this summer, Silas, I think was his name, we have his friend now, Ryan or Rufus or something, but he doesn’t come by nearly as often.” She waved them off “These rooms are off limits here at the back, but I also love coming back here because you know, it has the  _ great _ room.” She opened the door to a living room that was completely empty except for couches and pillows everywhere “Good for group play?”

“We’ll take it, thank you love.” Corban said pushing Hermione inside. “We’ll ring if we need you.”

Antonin followed her inside and shut the door behind them, leaving them in the huge sitting room alone, the windows were charmed to show a glittering night sky, the milky way swirled and twinkled in and out of each pane. Hermione looked back at the Death Eater who was leaning against the door and pointedly looking everywhere but her, and then at Corban who was doing much the same.

“Okay,” Hermione said, tracing her fingers up her arm, trying to calm her nerves, trying to swallow the taste of their desire that still ran around her bloodstream. “So, about upstairs…”   


“We don’t have to talk about it.” Antonin said behind her quickly. “We don’t have to  _ remember _ it.” 

Her pride stung with the outright rejection and she shook her head to try and rid herself of emotions. “Right.”

“Right.” Corban agreed “Right, we were all under the influence and it doesn’t have to-”

“But-” Hermione pressed, watching something she wanted slip so easily out of her grasp. She could feel the bruising of Antonin’s kisses on her neck. What if she was the only one who wanted it?

“But it did happen, and we’re both sorry, Hermione, we never would take advantage of you like that.” Corban pressed on despite her small objection.

“I’m not some monster who molests girls.” Antonin agreed. “We will never touch you like that again.”

And her last hope of ever reliving the brief moments in the bedroom between two men she should hate, slipped far beyond her grasp. Maybe she hated herself for wanting them so badly. Maybe she hated herself for wishing that the man that cursed her only a few months prior could touch her again. It was now or never, she said to herself, exhaling a shaky breath. They were clearly her Amortentia.

“I…” The word trailed off in the echo-y room “I rather liked it.”

It seemed in that moment that no one breathed. The whole world seemed to hinge on their reply.

“Hermione,” Corban cooed her name like she was a frightened deer “It was the amortentia.”

They were her amortentia. Merlin, as if that wasn’t an awful thing to swallow.

“It was just the potion.” Antonin agreed. “We have work to do.”

She turned back towards Antonin, who was looking at her now, that same expression. Hunger. It was more answer than his words ever would be.

“It was just the potion.” She agreed.

“It was just the potion.” Corban echoed.

Three liars in a brothel. Who were they lying to protect?

* * *

Each door was warded. each door led to something more benign than the last, a closet, a cupboard, a pantry, and then, near the French doors that led to the garden, another door, the last door, the door that led to the basement.

A brothel’s basement, Hermione decided, almost always had a potion’s lab, and from the five cauldrons that were set up simmering away quietly on one workbench, this one was where all the polyjuice was being manufactured for every brothel in Britain. It was impeccable for a stumbled upon potions lab. All the ingredients were stored like they were at school and labeled in a clean spiky scrawl.

“Professor Snape’s hand.” She said, her fingers moving over jars of ingredients. “All of them, but-" She grabbed one of the jars and inspected it, moonstone “This isn’t crushed evenly, he wouldn’t make such a mistake, he’s usually so precise.”

“Severus?” Corban said across the room, pulling drawers out to find anything “Does Dumbledore have him brewing for whores now?”

She peered over the simmering cauldrons, polyjuice indeed, a muddy brown concoction boiling away, one of them was thinner than the others, more like a slurry than the usual brownish slime that indicated a last stage, it was passable, but not perfect. She shook her head “Not him, but everything in here  _ is _ his. These cauldrons, those ingredient jars, this-” She pointed to the potion’s manual “-handwriting, it’s all his. If someone discovered this...well, he’d be up a creek.”

“A scapegoat.” Antonin said flipping through the potion’s notes “A setup. I suppose Severus has always been ripe for it. Dumbledore’s kept him around specifically  _ for _ the fall.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore wouldn’t-”

She was cut off when Corban raised his eyebrow. They  _ were _ in an Order brothel. He went back to opening drawers, he pulled out an envelope, addressed to Elora DeGennes in Knockturn Alley. He poured out the contents and there was another picture of one of the girls they saw upstairs and a lock of hair tied up in black ribbon. “Another twenty or so.” He hummed, tossing more envelopes on the counter.

Hermione moved further into the basement, opening up more supplies cabinets to see contraceptive potions all neatly labeled and placed in racks, amortentia was kept in large plastic containers, and more books were piled up on the other side of a simmering cauldron on polyjuice. She opened them to see beautiful florals and intricate designs that looked like tattoos. It looked like a sketchbook, there were haphazard drawings all over the page. It seemed like whoever was brewing potions also had a knack for drawing.

“Well, at least our brewer is an artist.” She hummed thoughtfully, closing the book and holding it to her chest as she moved to inspect more of the lab. The final cabinet had rows of potion vials that were unlabeled, and she waved her hand in a lumos to see better.

Racks and racks of deep burgundy potions, she rolled one over in her hand and read the name, this was in a different hand, neat and precise block letters. “Margaret Kinsey.”

She rattled the vial and watched the potion stick to the sides before sliding down. She looked up to see a few shelves even over her head with racks of potions. She pulled out another “Mary McElroy.”

She uncorked one and smelled the potion and was hit with a metallic odor. Blood, the whole cabinet was full of blood. Were these blood samples waiting to be processed? She peered into the cabinet trying to see if any racks were missing.

“Fuck.” Antonin said behind her.

She turned away from the cabinet. “What  _ now _ ?”

He was crouched down on the floor looking at what appeared to be a crack in the floor. “I haven’t seen one of these in ages.”

Corban turned around from a book he had been flipping through and sighed, then the room was flooded with light. Hermione looked down at the stone and saw that the cracks were not just cracks, but part of a set of channels carved into the stone, forming a quarter circle with lines moving towards the center where she stood. 

“Pour out the vial, love.” Corban said.

She looked at Mary's blood in her hand and hesitated.

“We have to be sure.” Antonin insisted “Pour out the vial.”

She did, and as soon as it hit the basin she was standing near, it began to race around the channels, glowing softly, like moonlight at her feet.

Antonin cursed again. “Magic that the Ministry can’t track. Magic that’s too low to be magic.”

The room glowed and then faded, taking the lumos with it. “Blood Magic.” She whispered.

“Let’s go, before someone else finds us.” Corban said grabbing a book and shrinking it. “We activated the circle, someone has to be on their way.”

Hermione hugged the sketchbook hoping that it would lead some clues to the brewer and a handful of blood vials, shoving them in Antonin’s pocket as they rushed up the stairs.

Antonin started to ward the door again when she heard someone speaking “Well, they were in the great room, but they seem to have gone…somewhere else?” A giggle “Oh you know how it is Rufus, some people like variety.”

“Hermione, come.” Corban said, yanking the sketchbook out of her hand and shrinking it, shoving it into his sportscoat and pulling her forward “We can’t apparate out, let Antonin take care of setting up the wards.”

She turned back to see the other man casting quickly. The door was glowing white, blue and then they turned a corner and Antonin was out of sight. Corban began to pull at his long braid, undoing the plait with his free hand as he pushed through the kitchens. He grabbed her by the waist and stopped at the kitchen island, helping her up onto it, and then pushing her back down so her legs were dangling off.

“I know what I just said.” His blonde hair was completely undone, it hung down to his waist like cornsilk. “I’m sorry love.”

He climbed on top of her and grabbed her chin roughly, his hair curtaining the two of them and then the door swung open behind them. “Oh!” A soft female voice “See? I knew they were still back here.” 

Hermione looked up at Corban who was inches away from her face, studying her expression. Her eyes were immediately drawn to his lips, a soft reassuring smile as he stroked her hair. “Right, but you said it was a group.”

“Oh Ryan, you know how it is, one girl can’t be all that pleases two men.” The woman giggled and Hermione frowned. “Would you like to-”

“No, I just am here to check on things, stop  _ touching _ me.” The man’s voice was soft but firm, it sounded vaguely familiar.

Corban’s fingers stroked her cheek, his hand was warm, and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes, trying to place the voice with a name.

The door shut and he let his forehead touch hers briefly before climbing off of her. “We have to find Tonin and get out before more people come to  _ check in _ on things.” Corban offered his hand to her and she hopped off the table. “I had to be sure though.”

Hermione nodded and they left the kitchen, heading for the front of the house, checking each room for Antonin but turning up empty. Where had he gone? Corban pulled her forward, “You first,” He said “Antonin can deal.”

They finally made it to the base of the stairs and Hermione looked up to see women sitting on the stairwell in neat rows, waiting for something or someone.

Finally a hand grabbed hers and relief surged through her “Antonin.” She smiled turning back to see not the Russian, but Remus Lupin.

“Hermione?” He sounded confused “Wh-”

Corban pulled her roughly away from him, shoving her behind him “You’re the owner of the circle then?”

“Hermione, we’ve been looking for you.” Professor Lupin’s voice was calm, like he was talking down a suicide jumper. “Everyone has been worried, we know the Death Eaters have your parents. We can save them.”

“Don’t speak to her.” Corban snapped “Don’t even  _ look _ at her, mutt.”

“They won’t give you your parents back, no matter how much you give to them. Have they hurt you?” Professor Lupin continued and she saw his hand move, it was imperceptible and then she saw the shiny wood in his palm.

_ Expelliarmus _ she chanted in her mind over and over again, focusing on the wood and then finally it flew for a bit and dropped with a clatter on the tile floors of the foyer. Corban was quick on supplementing her magic, because the wand sailed into his hand.

“Where’s the diffuser for the amortentia?” Hermione piped up from halfway behind Corban “What you’re doing here is wrong, Professor Lupin.”

“You’re too young to understand.” cooed Professor Lupin, taking a step towards the two of them “It’s for the greater good, and these women, they were doing this anyways. It’s their job, and they’re happy.”

She looked at the rows and rows of naked women sitting obediently on the stairs, waiting for instruction from their owner. “You’re a slave owner, Professor, and I’m going to tell the whole world what you’re doing here, what the Order has been doing with muggle women for years.”

The Professor lunged at the two of them with the force of a werewolf and Corban was tackled to the ground with the  _ thock  _ of skull hitting tile and Hermione was pushed backwards towards the front door, falling on her rear. The wand clattered to the side, but Lupin grabbed it before Corban and then pointed it back towards the stairs and fired off a curse.

The nearest girl was enveloped in red light and Hermione panicked as the girls screams filled the foyer, echoing off the walls. She stumbled up and pulled at her professor, grabbing his wand arm and, for lack of a better idea, biting him. The wand clattered to the floor and the curse was lifted but Professor Lupin had his hand firmly around Corban’s neck.

Corban couldn’t breathe, his hands were pushing on Professor Lupin’s but he was no match for the werewolf’s strength. Hermione yanked on the arm she had just bit, and then in a moment of clarity it came to her.

“Stupefy Stupefy  _ Stupefy _ ” The magic came out in a wave and the werewolf was blown into a far wall before slumping down on the floor, stunned.

Corban rolled over and grabbed the wand snapping it even as he gasped for air. “Back...back.” He coughed.

The back of his head was streaked in glistening blood and a girl on the stairs was crying, no one moved to help her. Hermione wondered if the cruciatus was for her and he missed. She moved to the struggling woman who was twitching in the fetal position and tried to cast some healing charms, but she had never treated the cruciatus, and when Antonin had done it, he had potions. 

Corban stood up shakily, bruises blooming on his neck, his hair a tangled mess and then there was a crack of thunder outside, followed by more. 

“Casting an unforgivable on a muggle.” Corban pulled her away from the girl she was trying to help. “Aurors.”

The fastest way to call an auror was to break a law, and Antonin was still missing. The lights went out and then there was silence, in the dark she could hear the girl sobbing on the staircase.

Hermione looked down at her hand and muttered  _ lumos _ , a few seconds later, there was a blinding white light and Hermione felt someone grab her arm and pull her. “No time.” Antonin snapped “Yax, let’s  _ go _ .”

The room was beginning to smell like smoke and when she looked over to try and at least  _ mobicorpulius _ him out of the room. He was gone.

“The girls we have to save them, Antonin!” She shrieked, pulling away. “Please.” She stood in the smoky foyer in front of rows and rows of perfectly seated unmoving statues of women.

“Fucking hell, Hermione.” Antonin said, swiping for her again but she was out of his grasp and back to the staircase. “The aurory is here, we can’t fuck around with these muggles!”

Hermione rushed back to the girls, casting charm after charm, hoping to break their curse but they didn’t move, they just waited, waited for instruction from someone who was missing. She grabbed the girl who had been cursed and started to try and drag her off the steps.

“No!” The prostitute screamed “Let go, _let_ _go_!”

Hermione looked back at Corban and Antonin who were torn between the only exit and saving the girl and finally moved back towards Hermione.

“You can’t be the hero, love.” Corban said pulling Hermione away “Today is not your day to be a hero.” 

“No!” Hermione screamed, fighting against him “We are here to save _ them _ .”

Even as they fought, they dragged her away, her screams turning into coughs as the smoke poured into the foyer. Cold night air hit her and then they were apparated out. Did the girls die? Did it matter anymore?

Hermione tore out of Corban’s arms and looked at the two of them like she was first seeing them. Death Eaters. Murderers.  _ Evil _ .

They were standing in a field in the middle of merlin knows where, the stars their only light. “They’re dead, you  _ killed _ those girls, we were supposed to save them!”

Corban was gingerly touching the back of his head and Antonin had his arms crossed. “The Ministry had arrived, did you want to be arrested? Did you want to be taken from us into Order custody?”

“You’re the  _ fucking _ Ministry, the both of you are!” She shouted, turning back, hoping to see the house, hoping to see some way back to save all those women. “Take me back there! I have to save them. I  _ have to _ .”

Antonin shook his head “Which one of them wanted you to save them, Hermione? They were beyond saving! The circle in the basement was for bonding rituals, there was no one left to save. No woman was free anymore in that house.”

All the fight fell out from underneath her and instead tears began to flow. “They were trapped and drugged and... and _ enslaved _ to Remus Lupin to live out the rest of their lives fucking politicians so that The Order has operating capital!” She was yelling at the stars now, she didn’t want anyone to see her cry, but dammit, it was so unfair. “I let those women die, all I wanted was to save them.”

“They’re not going to let the place burn, and they’re not going to let them die.” Corban said finally “The Prime Minister is lying somewhere in a bedroom, and they do need him, even if they don’t care for the girls, but I know they will, because  _ operating capital _ .”

“You obliviated the Prime Minster?” She sniffed.

“Oh, come on.” Antonin said, annoyed. “This isn’t my first day on the job.”

“But Professor Lupin…” She trailed off.

“We need to get Yax back to the flat and clean up his wounds, Hermione.” Antonin changed the subject “You can bitch us out then.”

“I’m not bitching you out.” She snapped.

“Tonin, she’s had a hard night, we all have, cut it out for a minute.” Corban sighed and looked up at the sky “Where did we even apparate  _ to _ ?” 

Antonin let out a laugh “That old rendezvous point from when we were training to both be aurors: some old man’s field in Avebury.”

“You can always feel the old magic better in Avebury.” Corban said wistfully and then she felt him step behind her, his hair now pulled back hastily into a ponytail, some hair escaping and framing his face. “Can we go back to the flat or do you need a minute, love?”

She wiped her eyes quickly, hating both them and herself for not saving the women, for not thinking of a way to get them out. She felt tired. She felt hollow. “Let’s go back to the flat.”

_ Fuck _ . 


	14. Vixen's Run

She shut herself in Antonin’s bedroom, and curled up in a ball underneath the heavy quilt as she tried to process the events of the last twenty four hours. The Order knew where she was and what she was doing. The Order knew she was consorting with Death Eaters and was actively looking for her. The Order knew she was a traitor.

“I’m not hard on her.” It was Antonin, his voice was muffled through the door.

Hermione stopped breathing to hear better, her thoughts stilled.

“We molested her. She had to attack her school teacher, and then all those muggle women-fuck, be gentle.” Corban replied “ _ You _ set the place on fire, I know you did.”

“I was looking for the damned amortentia.” Antonin shot back “Even with the bubblehead charm the whole house smelled like her, it was driving me mad.”

“She’s too young, Tonin, and she’s too-”

“I don’t need a lecture. I gave you my word before.” Antonin sounded resigned “She’s off limits, but we’re  _ bound _ .”

“She bit him, she actually bit a werewolf.” Corban replied and she heard Antonin chuckle. “Then she stunned him.”

“Is she alright?”

“Yeah, Merlin but he was trying to get to her, tried to feed her some shit about her parents.”

“Of course.”

There was a pause.

“Should we check on her?” Antonin finally asked.

“No, anything can wait until morning.”

And it did, because after that the whole house was silent, except for periodically the clinking of vials and the shuffle of paper, and that silence left her with her thoughts. Of which she had only one. 

But we’re bound.

She would change that.

* * *

 

When she woke up at around eleven on Thursday, some owl post was waiting for her and so was breakfast, Corban was reading the daily prophet in the kitchen while cooking his own eggs and sipping on a snifter of firewhiskey. His hair was back to being a tight braid that snaked down his back and Antonin was nowhere to be seen.

She turned her Hogwarts letter over in her hands a few times, her name in glittering black on the envelope. “What should I do?” She finally asked.

Corban turned to her, pushing the eggs around in the frying pan. All they ate were eggs. Did neither of these men know what a Tesco was? “What do you mean?”

She flipped the letter over so that the address was facing him. “School.”

Corban turned away and slid his eggs onto a plate, humming thoughtfully. “A few things, I suppose.”

“A few things?” She asked.

“Well,” He set the plate across from her and began to poke at his eggs “You could just not go.”

She looked at him irritably as she began to eat as well. “No.”

“You could transfer to another wizarding school.”

“Too expensive.” 

“You could go back.” He said as the door opened.

She shook her head at that, her wild curls bouncing around her, sticking in all directions from sleep. “How can I look Headmaster Dumbledore in the eye after last night?”

“I went and saw Severus.” Antonin said as he set a few case files on the table, trading them for Corban’s half drank firewhiskey. “About the polyjuice, and the amortentia.”

“And?”

“He claims he doesn’t know, but he’s always slippery, in that kind of way.”

Hermione shook her head again. “No, he might be slippery, but he’s a potion’s master, the polyjuice was sloppy and the ingredients they go through frequently weren’t evenly ground. They might have started with Professor Snape’s stores at Hogwarts, but he’s not maintaining them. You have the sketchbook, Antonin, that might give us a clue to the brewer.”

Antonin looked up at her and tossed her a case file. “Here.”

It was her own, she saw a photo of her from Hogwarts smiling back at her on the first page. “Ah.” She said “Am I fugitive now?”

“You’re off the Ministry’s books, that’s everything. We don’t have record televisions so once that’s gone, it’s gone.” Antonin said and looked her over. “Are you hurt at all from yesterday?”

A few things hurt, her confidence, for one, her conscience, for another, but she shook her head again “No, I’m fine, any news?”

“I’m out of the loop now, as they say.” Antonin replied, checking her over visually once more to make sure she wasn’t lying. She fought the heat that started when his eyes raked over her body. “Whatever happened last night was cleaned up before I got to the Ministry this morning to pick up these files.”

“So no word.” She sighed and picked at her scrambled eggs.

“No news is good news,” Corban reassured “It could be worse, we could have The Order pounding at the door demanding we hand you over.”

Hermione rolled her eyes “And how would they know where I am?”

Corban picked up the Hogwarts letter that was sitting on the table and dangled it between his index and thumb “A bird told me.”

She snatched it out of his hand and stood up. “Well, what am I supposed to do? You’re the one who got the post this morning!”

“Yax, don’t you think you’re being a little hard on the girl?” Antonin mocked.

She flushed, realizing she was the butt of the joke this morning. Anger bubbled up with embarrassment. “I want to go to Tesco. I hate eggs, and I’m not opening this letter. Toss it in the trash for all I care.”

“Like oil on the fire, Tonin.” Corban said as Hermione fumed. “Come on, we’ll go to Tesco and get you something other than eggs.”

They usually apparated in and out of the apartment, so it was strange when Corban opened the front door for her and waited for her to step out. The apartment building itself was hot and dingy, with old stained carpet and yellowing walls. 

“This is obviously just a temporary thing.” He explained sheepishly as they walked down the hall “I’d like to take you to the estate sometime, but Antonin says it’s too dangerous right now, everyone knows where I live.”

She looked over at the man next to her who was wearing a dingy grey t-shirt and some black trousers. “Is your family an old family?"

He opened another door for her and she stepped into the cement stairwell. “You could say that,” he hedged “old enough to have means, and means to buy you crisps at Tesco.”

“Old enough to hate mudbloods?”

Corban looked cowed as he walked down the stairs with her “Old enough for that too.”

They walked down two flights of stairs in silence before Hermione spoke again.

“Where is it?”

“Scotland, we’re a Scottish family, near Glasgow, but not too near, it gets a bit dodgy in Glasgow.” Corban gave her a small smile “I thought the accent would be obvious.”

The walk to Tesco through muggle London involved chatter about their families, and what Hermione was going to do in a few weeks to go back to school, and whether she needed supplies. She loaded a small trolley with  _ actual food _ and not just firewhiskey and eggs, and Corban handed her his muggle wallet, a black leather thing stuffed haphazardly with cards and cash. “I’ll be outside.” He said while she was standing in the cereal aisle “I see someone I think I know.”

She was pushing her trolley down the produce aisle when she saw who he was talking about, Corban and Antonin were both standing in front of Tesco, laughing about something as they waited for her. Antonin scratching his stubble as Corban continued to talk, a smile playing at his lips. She hated them, but they looked so perfect together. Things  _ felt _ so normal around them sometimes. But they were bound, a voice mocked in her head. As long as she was a burden, there was no hope of Heaven happening again.

“Miss?” The cashier said, and she caught herself staring at the two again. “It’ll be seventy pounds thirty.”

“Right.” She pulled out a hundred pound note, and four more fell out and she sighed. “Here you go.” She said before picking them all up.

The Tesco cashier bagged all the groceries up and looked at her skeptically as she stuffed change into her pocket. “You’ll be taking all this?”   


She loaded them all back into the trolley and smiled “Yeah, I have a bit of help, thanks.”

The doors slid open and she pushed the trolley in front of the two of them. “Ok.”

“Okay, love?” Corban asked looking down at the food and then it vanished.

“Did you buy the store? All that food is going to go bad.” Antonin said tugging the trolley out of her hands and putting it with the rest of trolleys.

“It’s better than eggs.” She replied “And then we can just eat at home instead of skipping meals or buying hotel food.”

“I’m a good cook, you know?” Corban said, starting to walk back towards the apartment. “I make scrambled eggs  _ every _ morning, and they’re just perfect.”

* * *

 

She was reading more on life debts when Corban got out of the shower and was meticulously braiding his hair on the chair next to hers.

“I like it down.” She said looking up from her book.

He paused in braiding and then continued, looking over at her. “I know.”

“You know?”

“You’ve told me so, several times.”

She flushed. “When? I don’t remember saying that.”

Corban gave her one of those smiles that made her insides turn gooey and she turned back to her book quickly trying to hide her discomfort.

“In the hot tub at the hotel, you said a lot of things, but mostly just played with it and mumbled about how nice it was into my shoulder.”

She slammed the book shut and got up “You took advantage of me!”   


“You took advantage of the champagne.” He said finishing his braid. “And I believe I was the one who was taken advantage of, you drooled on me, love.”

She pursed her lips, trying to come up with something to say but was left with nothing.

An owl saved her, an owl with another Hogwarts letter. It was another letter that went into the bin.

* * *

 

Antonin was looking at the sketchbook later that night, and she was sitting next to him flipping through photos trying to match blood with names.

“None of these are sketches.” He said after a few moments “These are circles, these have all been written with magic. They’re all warding circles.”

Hermione looked up from the photos and over at the book on his lap. “Warding circles? Were there any on Heaven?”

“No, no wards, no blood wards at least.” Antonin tapped a particularly intricate circle with waves and swirls bisecting with hard angles and dots. “Remember when we broke the wards in the trap? Each time the caster participates in a ritual, he goes into a trance to draw the circle, the more intricate the circle, the longer the trance, the more magic that can be summoned from the earth.”

Antonin flipped the page and there were more circles. “These are all so small, minimal amounts of blood, to test the circles, all the same caster but not the same blood.”

“How can you know?” She asked, studying another circle that looked like ripples in a pond.

“It’s the same spell, these two lines mean there is the same intent, but what goes on inside the circle is the blood’s addition, the different patterns and shapes.” Antonin flipped another page and frowned, his eyes travelling up from the book to the blood on the table. “Your circles will always be the same, the blossoms are your signature, just like your magic, woodsy, summery. This blood, is probably  _ that _ blood.”

“The muggle women?”

“They’re looking for old families, old  _ British _ families, people who are close with the land, whose blood is in the earth already.” Antonin tapped the journal and closed his eyes “It’s about potency.”

“It’s about potency.” She echoed. “You said  _ I  _ was potent.”

Antonin was silent for a few moments, his eyes closed, his fingers stilled, and she wondered if he had even breathed. “You are potent, princess. That’s why they’ve been trying to get at you, that’s why that junior auror was looking for posh white girls. Daughters of the land have potent blood for protection wards. All these girls...what the  _ fuck _ kind of area are they trying to ward?”

“A sacrifice.” She said quietly looking down at the book of blood on his lap. “A sacrifice to the greater good. You don’t think The Order is trying to ward Hogwarts, are they?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well,” He said “It seems bloody likely, doesn’t it?”   


She sat back against the couch next to him and closed her eyes. "Why me?"

“They wanted your parents likely for confirmation of the bloodline, they’ve been using the polyjuice to confirm the bloodlines.”

“You said Dumbledore can’t do blood magic, not everyone can do blood magic.” Her voice was quiet.

“Old families,  _ old  _ bloodlines can do blood magic.”

“Corban said he was a sacred twenty eight, that’s an old family, I assume most old families are blood purists and not trying to set up wards with muggle women at Hogwarts and instead hanging out with Malfoy and the Dark Lord.” 

“And so are the Weasley’s.”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed.” Antonin said looking over at her “I had a thought earlier on that they wanted you for your blood, but I guess this seals it.”

* * *

The three of them were listening to classical music in the living room, reading books on blood rituals and trying to connect fake names to real ones when she looked up, her eyes tired, the glass of wine in her hand empty. She was sitting next to Antonin on the couch, the pizza they had ordered after Corban had screwed up some kind of stew half forgotten.

“What happens if I’m sacrificed? What happens to the life debt?”

Corban looked up from what he was reading and frowned. “A life debt must be repaid, and if it’s not then-”

“Then we’re cursed, because we can never repay back what we were given.” Antonin finished “It’s why we’re bound to keep you close, because I don’t want to be cursed.”

“What’s the curse?” Hermione asked, a bit more awake now that they were talking about such a serious subject matter.

“For us? Most likely becoming squibs, some people can get away with just having their powers reduced.” Corban said scribbling something on parchment.

Hermione huffed. “I don’t want you to be in debt to me.”

Corban looked up at her with a smile “I only see benefits for you, love. Two handsome, rich men at your disposal every day, making you food and solving life’s mysteries-”

“I don’t want you to be  _ forced _ into my company.” Hermione said quietly.

“Why else would you be here?” Antonin said beside her.

It stung to hear the man whose very presence made her heart beat a little faster reject her so callously. She closed her eyes. It was time to test this life debt stuff she had read about earlier.

“I’m calling on my life debt,  _ Invocatius Vitae _ , Corban Yaxley, to fulfill your debt to me, I demand that you bring me a bottle of the riesling from the kitchen.” Magic swirled around the two of them and glowed briefly before disappearing.

He got up wordlessly and obeyed, disappearing into the kitchen and rummaging around before returning with a 1986 Riesling, her favorite, showing her the label and standing wordlessly before her.

She turned to Antonin beside her. “I’m calling on my life debt,  _ Invocatius Vitae _ , Antonin Dolohov, to fulfill your debt to me, I demand that you refill my wine glass with this riesling.”

Antonin grabbed the bottle roughly and then her glass, pouring it to the brim, and Hermione felt the magic between them glow and then fade as he handed the glass back to her. The warmth in the room disappeared and she quickly replaced it by downing the entire glass of wine, letting it spill down her throat as she drained the glass. Artificial warmth was still warmth.

“Done.” She said, setting the glass down on the coffee table.

“That was a very stupid thing to do.” Antonin said beside her. “We no longer have to protect you.”

“Then don’t.” She said, standing up, realizing she was inches away from Corban and then she sidestepped, disappearing into Antonin’s bedroom and grabbing the only thing she had from her house, jelly shoes that Antonin had bought for her weeks ago. “Don’t do anything, I’ll see my way out.”

When she shut the door to the flat, she realized she really  _ had _ made a mistake. The same process that led her to thinking that Corban and Antonin would stick with her no matter what, now was leading her down the dingy apartment hallway by herself. They really were only around because of the life debt, now that it was absolved, she was alone. Wasn’t there more to it than that? Or was one night in Heaven enough to make her completely stupid? 

She cursed herself as she walked towards the underground, looking for a line to take her to King’s Cross with the paltry amount of money she had shoved in her pocket after Tesco earlier today.

Every so often, as she walked down the sidewalk in central, she looked back to see if for some stupidly romantic reason, Corban and Antonin had followed her out. As she got further away from the dingy flats, the less hope she had that any of this would work out. There was only one place to go, she decided as she descended the stairs into the underground. It was time to go home, it was time to put her morals behind her and head back to Hogwarts and The Order in a few weeks. She would give her blood to The Order and protect Hogwarts like so many other muggle women had before her.

She angrily shoved her pound notes in the machine, thinking of how stupidly she believed everyone in The Order. “Muggleborns are no different!” She laughed at herself as the machine spit her crumpled up five pound note back out “We accept everyone regardless of blood.”

What a load of shit. This whole war wasn’t about keeping muggleborns and muggles safe, it was which side could use them for whatever they needed. At least Voldemort was up front about his murder, The Order wrapped every single woman they killed in faux concern for the “greater good.”

She was crying, and the machine wasn’t working, and the two men she was in love with didn’t think of her as anything more than an obligation, and the people who she thought she could trust were just trying to kill women like her for their own end. She kicked it and wiped the tears with the back of her hand. “Why do I pay taxes if this machine is a load of  _ shit _ ?” She yelled at the desk where the attendant was sitting.

“Why don’t you put the money in like the picture, miss?” The attendant shot back, flipping another page in the magazine he was reading.

She looked down at the crumpled up five pound note in her hand and realized she had it upside down and flushed. Now she was crying and an idiot. She shoved the note in quickly and got her ticket, pushing past the turnstiles and the attendant without looking, headed down the stairs to catch her train.

Her train car was mostly empty, and so she was left alone with her thoughts as the car screamed and rattled through the tubes. Why had she thought she was anything  _ but _ a burden to Corban and Antonin? They had a point, she was mostly useless, barely any good at wandless magic, and her book smarts had seemingly no impact on the real world where all knowledge came from things they would have never even have brushed upon at school. Releasing them from the debt released them from her life, and that was that. Now she had to sort out what to do about every other danger she had made for herself since she started uncovering the mystery of Lewis Catchepoole. Would the Order take her back? Could she swallow knowing that she was working with mass murderers?

King’s Cross was a bustle of activity and she was swept into a comforting sea of people as she exited the underground, and found a map. There must be some train still running that could get her out to Wiltshire. She sighed and stepped over to the information kiosk.

“I need to get out to Lacock.” She said to the old man who was more interested in the small telly that she knew was hidden just out of view.

“Lacock? This time of night? You’re mad.” The old man said looking up briefly from whatever was hidden just underneath the window. “It’s almost eleven girl, the last train to Lacock left at 10:30.”

“Is there nothing that’s going out to Wiltshire?” She insisted, she didn’t have  _ anywhere _ in London, and she knew that the Knight Bus would just put her back in danger of being discovered by The Order or The Ministry.

“First train out to Lacock is at 5:40.” The man said without looking at her.

“Thanks.” She said stepping away from the information booth and began to weigh her options of how far she could get on twenty five pounds with a taxi.

She stepped back to the map, studying the brightly colored lines and trying to divine some way out of the predicament. She could get a hostel or something but then she couldn’t afford the train home. She didn’t trust her wandless magic enough to apparate home, and the Knight Bus was like walking into a trap.

“Need some help, miss?” A voice said beside her.

She turned to see Corban Yaxley, studying the map next to her. Fury battled hurt. “Go away, you’re  _ absolved _ now, you don’t have anything to do with me.”

He didn’t turn to look at her. “It seems that you can’t get very far on the change you took from me.” 

So that’s what this was about. She pulled out the wad of pounds and threw it at him, pence scattering all over the cement floors of King’s Cross. She felt more tears well up, why couldn’t she stop crying tonight? “Take it then, I don’t need it, just leave me alone.”

And then she was in his arms, he smelled like a fresh shower and cinnamon, his sure hands were stroking his hair even as she fought against him. “I hate you!” She yelled, muffled by his shirt, and then she started to sob. “I'm not some bloody burden. I hate you.”

“I know, love.” His voice was soft.

She hit him. Why did he have to be such a jerk? Why did everyone in the magical community hate muggles? Why did everyone want to kill her? “I’m so stupid, gods, just let me go.”

“I can’t.” He laughed at this, it rumbled through her “Merlin knows I’ve tried.”

“Antonin hates me.”

“He adores you.” 

“You hate me.”

“I adore you too.” Corban sounded like it was as obvious as a blue sky. The whole world knew but her.

“I’m a mudblood.”

“You are.”

She looked up at him from his shirt, he was staring at something over her head. “And?”

He looked down “Does it matter?”

“You  _ hate _ mudbloods.” 

“I don’t hate Hermione Granger.”

“Idiot.” She hit him again and stepped back, wiping her face quickly and looking away. “I don’t need you.”

“I didn’t think so.” He said sighing “What’s the plan for tonight then? No money, you just tossed it on the ground. So I suppose we aren’t going anywhere.”

“We?” She laughed “That’s rich.” She walked away from him “It’s just me, no life debt to tie you to me anymore Corban.”

“How can I tie myself to you again then, Hermione?” He asked following her through the mall, walking past all the closed shops, and late night coffee spots. “I broke my wand, so I can’t do a wand oath.”

“What other oaths are there? You’re free of babysitting me, why are you here tonight?”

“An unbreakable vow?” He mused “We need a bonder.”

She turned back to him, walking backwards to see the Head of the DMLE following her through muggle shops at eleven on a Thursday, asking to be tied to her and wondered when life had gotten so weird. “Why are you here, Corban? Why are you following a schoolgirl around in King’s Cross station?”

“Because I’m a perverted old man.” He said, simply “And she likes my hair.”

She stopped, a flush forming on her cheeks. “Do you think what happened in Heaven was a mistake?”

He was a step away from her now, she could feel the heat of his magic. “I do.”

“Do you care?” She said looking up at the man who had saved her life countless times, who was funny and kind and could barely cook.

His fingers came under her chin, tilting it up slightly more, Hermione felt her heart race. She was sure the whole train station could hear it.

“I don’t.”

He kissed her, his fingers cupped her face and pulled her towards him and she could sense his urgency. His tongue slipped past her lips and stroked hers, coaxing small moans from her. He inhaled deeply and his fingers brushed over her cheek, giving her every bit of passion he possessed in the briefest of moments. She had never been kissed like this. She never  _ knew _ she could be kissed like this, and then his lips left hers. Perhaps she forgot to breathe.

“I like the way you call that cheap flat home.” He said, his lips still inches from hers. “I like the way you looked for me the whole way here. I like the way you play with my hair when you’re drunk.”

He pecked her on the lips. “I like the way you look in my shirts.” He pecked her on the nose. “I like the way you fall asleep with us so easily.” He kissed her once more on the forehead. “I like the way you smell after a shower.”

“Oh?” She said as his hands dropped from her face, the lack of warmth leaving her cold.

“Let me buy you a drink.” He said beginning to walk away from her.

“Yeah?”

“Let me buy you a whole bar, love. I have the money for it.”

“I want some ice cream.” She insisted catching up to him.

“Ice cream?” He held his hand out behind her and she took it.

“And I want Antonin Dolohov to apologize.”

“I’ll give you the world, love, but I don’t think I can give you an apology from Antonin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRICK.
> 
> So good tbh, I've read this scene a thousand times and I can't be any more in love with Corban than I am now. He's a hero, but he's easy. Corban and Antonin are so comfortable I just want to wrap myself up in them.


	15. Murder by Magic

The three of them were standing outside a pub in central at around midnight as she ate an ice cream cone and they enjoyed a pint. “You’re a real jerk, Antonin.” She said.

“You’re a real stupid girl, Hermione.” He shot back “I’m going to have to call the Prophet just so that the dumbest use for a life debt can be recorded.”

“It’s not dumb.” She said, licking the cone “I didn’t want it, I found out how to break it. Now you’re free to do whatever you want.”

“You could have asked us to kill for you, or die for you,” Antonin said before taking another swig.

“I don’t need it.” She said looking up at the Death Eater who was glaring at her “You’re already bound to one master, do you need two?”

He frowned and looked away from her. “So, you’re staying with us then?”

“I might.”

She could see the hint of a smile over the rim of his glass and pushed him on the chest “You’re a real jerk, Antonin.”

This time he did smile and lowered his pint. “You seem to like it.”

There was a crack and Hermione froze, looking back over her shoulder to see what had made the noise. Antonin grabbed the hand that was still resting on him and pulled her closer.

“Mr. Yaxley, sir.” There was a voice and the three of them turned to see another man in robes standing a bit further down the sidewalk.

“Cattermole.” Corban barked “Do you have any idea what time of night it is?”

Hermione tried to blend in with the building, and Antonin helped her by turning his body into hers, sandwiching her between the pub and him, hiding her from the Ministry Employee.

“Mr. Yaxley, sir.” The man sounded nervous “About that man we talked about, Mr. Catchepoole.”

“Speak,” Corban demanded and looked over at Hermione briefly before stepping away from the pub.

“We got reports that there were some unforgivables used against a muggle woman in Glasgow, the muggle police are at the scene now but it was registered under Lewis Catchepoole, the wand, not the crime, I mean al-”

“Shut up.” Antonin groused, finishing his pint and setting it down on the windowsill. “Do you have an address for us or not?”

“Yes, well, I mean of course I have an address why would I be here if I didn’t have an address?” Cattermole tittered on “Here, oh, I didn’t see you miss. Hi, I’-”

“Don’t speak to her.” Antonin snapped “Don’t look at her, just give us the address and  _ leave _ .”

“Right Mr. Dolohov, right, Mr. Yaxley, right Miss, I mean-”

“Leave.” Corban snapped “Oh, and Cattermole?”

“Right! Yes, Yaxley?”

“Grow a spine.”

“Right away sir.” There was a crack and Antonin stepped back away from her.

“Is he always like that?” She said trying to save the ice cream that was now threatening to melt all over her hands.

“I’m at least ninety percent sure ninety percent of the people employed at the Ministry of Magic couldn’t find their arse with both hands tied behind their back.” Yaxley looked at the address and then back at Hermione. “Finish your ice cream love, we’ll apparate and see if Mr. Catchepoole will be amenable to staying in a cell overnight.” 

“Oh forget it,” She said tossing her melted cone in the trash and licking the remaining off of her hand “Let’s go.”

Antonin grabbed her and they disapparated.

* * *

“Please!” The screams were heard out on the streets of Glasgow and Corban lifted the police tape for her “You  _ must _ find our daughter.”

The three of them stepped inside the apartment building to see a police guard stationed in front of the door on the first apartment to the left.

“Ma’am calm down, I am just finding this whole business to be fantastical.” A gruff voice responded, “you said he was a wizard, in robes?”

“Yes! He had a stick, a wand, constable. I know this is hard to believe but she’s  _ missing _ and she’s only fourteen and she’s sweet as a kitten and she’s very easily scared!” A woman shouted. There was more sobbing.

“My wife is not a liar! Maybe he was in some kind of costume!” A man’s voice this time.

“Is this what they teach the local PD for interviewing a victim?” Corban said stepping past the police in the door “Call them liars and ignore the testimony?”

“And who are you?” An older man who looked like he had showered nor slept in the last two weeks who had his pen poised on a beat up notepad.

“Scotland Yard, Corban, this is Anna, and Antonin, say your welcomes to them, gentlemen.”

There was a murmur of hellos around and everyone shuffled out of the way. “We’re taking this case very seriously, we will find your daughter,” Corban reassured.

“About time Scotland Yard showed up, you know we’re  _ royalty _ .” sniffed the man “She’s been missing for two hours now.”

Hermione looked around the room and saw that they were indeed well off for being in such an unassuming apartment, she’d never seen more gold in a room since she had been to Versailles as a child. “The man we’re looking for is about six two, blonde hair, a bit portly.” Corban rattled off.

“That’s him! That’s the man that stole my  _ baby _ .” The woman cried and Hermione shrunk back.

“Right, well, gentlemen, we’ll be taking over from here, clean up this theater you’ve set up and we’ll go catch the kidnapper, yeah?” Corban flashed a smile and the men began to shuffle out.

“I assume the Yard is going to want the glory from all this then too?” The detective who had been taking notes said pushing past the rest of his men.

“What did Glasgow PD do other than harass the victims?” Antonin asked, “Sounds like a cock up to me.”

The detective sneered and turned towards Hermione “Is it bring your daughter to work day?”

“It would be,” Hermione said coolly “But since you’re apparently not doing any work, it seems like it’s canceled.”

Corban snorted next to her and Antonin cracked a smile.

“Watch your mouth little girl.”

“Watch  _ your _ mouth, detective, before I report you to your supervisor.” Corban snapped. “Antonin, take her to go investigate the girl’s room for any clues. I’ll finish up here with Detective-”

“Detective McDonald.” The man said as Hermione left the room with Antonin. “Care to tell me how you already had an idea of who was nabbing children here in Glasgow?”

“If there’s any apparition signature, it’ll be too faint to follow by now, but we can at least look,” Antonin said as they walked deeper into the flat, Hermione trailing behind him. “If they’re still doing protection rituals then it’s probably much easier to get a child with a verified bloodline than messing around with people no one misses. It seems like they’re escalating.”

“What about the Dark Lord?” Hermione asked as Antonin opened the door to the bedroom “Is he making any threats? Something must be causing them to-”

Antonin shook his head. “There’s something he found out after we came back from the department of mysteries, something to do with the war that he didn’t like, or maybe he did like, because he doesn’t come out of his rooms in Malfoy Manor, we’ve had no meetings, I’ve not been called once since I came back from there.”

The room was a sickening pink, with stuffed animals and framed photos of Winnie the pooh all over the walls.

“Then why kidnapping? Why now?” Hermione looked around the room, there was no sign of struggle, the bed was neatly made. Something was off. “Antonin.”

“Hm?” He was inspecting something on the table.

“How old was the girl? A child?”

“Fourteen.” Corban said opening the door “the only daughter of Viscount and Viscountess Linley.”

She looked around the room and frowned, this room maybe belonged to someone of six, not a fourteen-year-old teenager. “Why would a Viscount be living in a first floor, two bedroom apartment?”

Antonin froze and looked back at her, putting the stuffed bunny back down on the table slowly. “Where do muggle royalty usually live?”

“In estate houses like wizarding royalty, money is money, Antonin.” She said moving towards the door, panic seeping in as more things stopped seeming normal. “This isn’t right, I don’t think there is a Viscount here, how did they remember seeing a wizard? Catchepoole is usually quick to obliviate victims.”

The three of them exited the room quietly and Hermione shut the door. “Cattermole was quick to turn on you Yaxley since you insult his wife left and right.” Mad-Eye Moody said.  


Hermione didn’t move from the door, her hand still on the doorknob facing the white wood, she heard both the men shift behind her. They had been well and truly caught this time.

“You brought your whore along with you this time, I see.” Mad-eye said and then laughed “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of her. We’ve been looking for you, Miss Granger.”

“I don’t doubt it, Professor,” Hermione said turning around.

“You’re a hard girl to find, no magic? Gone primitive again?” He laughed.

“You could say that.” She replied and in hope beyond all hopes she looked briefly at his wand and thought the wand motions for  _ Accio _ . 

His wand sailed to her and that’s when she decided she had made a terrible mistake, because as soon as he was disarmed, Mad-eye cast a wandless  _ Expelliarmus _ , and she slammed into the door. “Nice trick, girl.”

It was Antonin who had helped her up, checking her over briefly before turning to see more auror’s coming down the narrow hallway. “Stay close, princess.” He said and turned his back on her.

To watch Antonin and Corban duel together was to watch a dance. They moved as one, perfect fluidity and sync in their motions as they defended the small corner of the apartment from four aurors, and as the three of them backed into a wall, a hand came around her wrist, and she was yanked into the bathroom with a scream.

“Miss Granger.” A voice as smooth as silk that made her whole body stand at attention.

She looked up in the cramped bathroom to see her potion’s professor, dressed in black, and felt a frisson of terror run down her spine. “Professor Snape.”   


“The Order has your parents girl, you no longer have to be prisoners of two Death Eaters.”

“You’re wrong.” She shook her head.

“Don’t presume to tell me what’s wrong or right.” He snapped.

“I know where my parents are because I hid them, no Death Eaters kidnapped them, and The Order doesn’t have them either.”

His fingers relaxed on her wrist “What?”

“You heard me, The Order lied to you.” She pulled her wrist out of his hand and stepped back towards the door. “I’m not a prisoner, and I’m not going back with you  _ anywhere _ .”

“Not even back to your little friends?” He sneered.   


She frowned. “I can’t, not yet. I’ve seen too much of what The Order is capable of.”

He raised an eyebrow and then he grabbed her face, staring into her eyes before she ripped her face out of his grasp. “Unacceptable, Professor, I would have told you what you needed to know.”

There was shouting outside the door and she turned back to go and try to help, but a hand on her wrist stopped her. “I have to take you back to The Order.”

“Let go of me, The Order plans to use me just like they’ve been using all the other muggle women they’ve killed and I won’t be a part of it. They’re using you too, Professor, they set you up for the fall at the brothel, all your ingredients, all the texts had your name on them.” She felt the door press back against her and then a sickening crack of wood.

There was another thud, and another crack, Hermione turned back to realize that the door was being splintered apart. “You lie, girl.” Snape hissed, his grip tightening on her wrist. She thought the bones might break.

“You’re hurting me.” She shot back “I have no reason to lie to you, Antonin told you about the potions right after we had found them.”

There was a high pitched hissing and her Professor grabbed her and pulled her deeper into the bathroom and she yanked backward, casting a wandless  _ stupefy _ blasting him back into the bathtub and her onto the floor.

Wood rained down on her and Antonin who looked panicked, banished all the splinters of wood as soon as he saw that she was on the ground. “Alright there, princess?” Antonin said, blood dripping down his face.

She held her arm up and he helped her up, but she winced. Where Snape grabbed her is going to leave a bruise. He picked up her wrist and studied the purple marks blossoming on her skin “Did he do this?”

“Oh, leave it, Antonin.” She cast an  _ enneverate _ on Professor Snape and he stood up just as quickly, brandishing his wand.

“Is she okay?” Corban said behind Antonin and she stepped out of the bathroom with a hesitant smile. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, just some bruising.” She waved him off, knowing Corban’s penchant for mothering her when she was hurt. “Professor, I’m sorry I hexed you, I thought you were going to kidnap me.”

A good portion of The Order was on the floor in the hallway, Mad Eye Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and some other auror she didn’t immediately recognize were all stunned on the floor. Antonin was cut and bleeding in a few places, and Yaxley had a cut lip and burnt pants.

Professor Snape stepped out of the bathroom behind her and Antonin helped Hermione over the bodies. “You’re not hurt from that  _ expelliarmus _ that shit Mad-eye pulled earlier?” He asked as she stepped over the body.

“No, but I probably should have done a shielding charm after I disarmed him.” She huffed, annoyed at how she was easily the victim “I’m not a good duelist.”

“We can work on that,” Corban said ahead of the three of them. “A good duelist isn’t born, he’s trained.”

“Or she.” She said finally back in the ornate gold living room.

“Or she.” Corban agreed, looking her over and frowning once he saw her bruised wrist. He lifted her hand gently and performed a few healing charms. 

“Aren’t you three cozy?” Professor Snape said behind them.

Antonin sat down where the concerned parents once yelled at Glasgow PD and put his feet on the ornate coffee table. “I’m tired, Severus, I fought all your friends, and if you keep talking about touchy subjects, we can put your body in the hallway too.” 

“Miss Granger, care to explain what you told me in the bathroom?” He asked.

“Which part? The hundreds of muggle women that have been enslaved and killed for the greater good? Or where they were going to frame you for that, Professor?” Hermione replied.

“Well, in either case, we shouldn’t hang out here, so, I suppose, love, you’re going to see old Yaxley Manor at last.” Corban said, kicking Antonin’s leg to get him to stand up “Let’s go Tonin.”

“Finally, some good food.” Antonin said as the four of them exited the apartment building “No more eggs.”

“I knew I wasn’t the only one sick of eggs.” Hermione insisted, turning to Corban and frowning “Why didn’t you just go to the  _ store? _ ”

Corban took her into his arms and disapparated.

* * *

 

Even though it was dark, Yaxley Manor stood against the sky as a dark imposing building. It was huge, Hermione wondered why he called it a manor and not a castle. “Well,” Corban said beside her “It’s not  _ much _ but it’s home. I can’t wait to show it to you in the daylight.”

She coughed in disbelief. “This is giant! How can you live somewhere so large? Don’t you get lost?”

“Well, Antonin lives here with me for now, and the flat of course, where we’ve been living while investigating things in London.” They began to walk up the gravel drive to the house “You know, love, if you  _ want _ we could send you to another school, there’s no need to go to Hogwarts.”

She shook her head and felt his fingers lace with hers “I’m not sure yet, my friends and-”

“It’s just something to think over, Durmstrang or Beauxbatons would be fine choices for the last two years, and of course Antonin has some connections in Russia, but-”

“Koldovstoretz is not a good school for the girl.” Antonin chimed in “It was barely a good school for me.”

She turned around and saw Antonin and Professor Snape walking up the drive behind them about twelve paces, suddenly feeling self-conscious that she was holding Corban’s hand as they walked up the drive.

“Switching schools, Miss Granger?” Professor Snape asked as they caught up to them, now walking four across.

“It’s an ethical dilemma.” She said biting her lip “Can I go back to a school run by a man who was enslaving muggle women so that he could make a bit of cash off their backs?”

“Can you hold hands like a lovesick child with a man who has tortured and killed more people than you have met in your short time on this earth, Miss Granger?”

“Care to add your body count to this ethical dilemma, Severus?” Corban asked, unfazed. 

“It’s strange how ethics only seem to matter when it suits you,” Severus replied airily.

The four of them climbed up the stone steps to the house when a house elf popped into view “Master is back! We’s been waiting for master! Oh and company, Fianna is so pleased.”

“Fianna, this is Hermione, she’ll be needing somewhere to sleep tonight, and some clothes for the morning.”

“Just whatever you have really, I don’t need anything special.” Hermione insisted, a bit distressed that Corban kept house elves.

“A young miss?” The house elves’ ears flapped excitedly “A new mistress? Oh! We’s been waiting so long for a new mistress since our old mistress died so many years ago.”

“Not...no, not a new mistress, just Hermione.” She gave a timid smile and then the house elf disappeared.

“Fianna is...her own elf sometimes.” Corban seemed embarrassed and then the house lit up immediately, all the candles in the dark foyer sprung to life and she saw the shadow of the house elf as she rushed around to prepare the house for the master and his friends.

Every room on the first floor seemed to be two stories high and full of cozy leather furniture that oozed Corban’s tastes. She collapsed on an overstuffed couch that enveloped her right away. The fire blazed to life as soon as she sat down, and three more elves rushing around to clean things and start a tea service as the rest of them filtered into the room.

“We have to talk about house elves.” She murmured, suddenly feeling exhausted. It must be almost one in the morning.

“We have to talk about a lot of things,” Antonin said sitting down next to her, and Corban sat down on the other side.

Professor Snape sat down in a chair as an elf poured them all tea and Hermione yawned. “Tell me now, Miss Granger, what you meant about The Order murdering girls.”

They started from the moment she met Corban and Antonin, the murders of muggles, the girls, the times that Hermione had been dragged through her own house by her hair, the rituals, the blood, the brothels and the Prime Minister. Hermione was nodding off towards the end.

“How many?” was all the Professor asked at the end, his fingers laced together, tea forgotten.

“In the Pickwick Witches we found over two hundred hair samples, there were an additional thirty-five or six girls at Heaven when we left, we have no idea if they survived the fire.” Antonin supplied

“And you’re sure, Miss Granger, that this is The Order’s doing?” Professor Snape asked.

She yawned again. “When I first met Lewis Catchepoole, who is the key to this whole mystery, he was introduced as an Order member by Mad-Eye Moody. Nymphadora Tonks would round up the girls, and Remus Lupin was bound to the prostitutes in Heaven.”

“If this is true, this is very serious.” Professor Snape’s voice was grave.

“If it’s true? Go back to your friends and ask them to take you to Heaven, you’re all over that place already, the only reason we didn’t suspect you is that Hermione says the ingredients weren’t prepared well enough.” Corban replied in disbelief “There are so many missing pieces to the puzzle, but I think we’ve got enough of a picture to know where the blame lies.”

“But why is a different story,” Antonin interjected.

She nodded off as Professor Snape began to talk, she heard Miss Granger two or three times and then Antonin shifting to accommodate her better. “Leave it,” Corban said.

She woke to the smell of mint tea and her whole body bobbing up and down. “He seemed to take that well.” Antonin.

“As well as that man takes anything.” Corban replied, “the girl’s been up and all over London today, who cares if she falls asleep while he strategizes for hours on end, even I was nodding off.”

“He’s fucked, I’d be strategizing too.” Antonin murmured and she felt his hand on her hair. She was being carried up the stairs, her head on his shoulder.

She opened her eyes to see the foyer, the first lights of dawn filtering in through the large windows at the front of the house “Did he leave?” She asked sleepily “Did he say?”

“He’ll be back later today, he had plenty to say about you sleeping,” Corban replied. “And so do I, go back to sleep.”

She didn’t argue with him. Her body felt like it hadn’t slept in weeks, and looking back, maybe she hadn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting close to 100k, what happened to this being a short side story? Enjoy Corban and Antonin being themselves.


	16. Blood Will Out

She listened to rain on the windows for a while before rolling over in bed to see what time it was but was encountered with three elves who were standing at her bed all holding silver trays of mail with her name on it.

“Mistress Hermione, we’s being so happy you are awake, lots of mail has come.” Fianna said “But we’s only bringing thirty pieces.”

Hogwarts letters, every last one. She frowned. “How many is  _ many _ ?” She asked slipping out of bed and picking up a letter.

“Fianna has tried to send the owls away, but theys come.” She looked back at the heavy burgundy curtains “They are many.”

Hermione padded over to the curtain and pulled it open slightly. Owls, hundreds of them were pecking at the window, fluttering, swarming and blocking out the sun. She closed the curtain “How many is  _ many _ ?”

“Many.” The elf affirmed.

“I see. Is Corban or Antonin awake?”

The elf shook her head. “Both masters are asleep.”

“What do you think I should do about these owls, Fianna?”

“Young Master Corban often does not give them treats, not many owls come back,” Fianna replied.

Unhelpful, she frowned “Can you show me to the kitchens for breakfast?” 

“We’s prepared breakfast for Mistress Hermione.” Fianna said cheerfully “In the dining hall.”

“Oh, that wasn’t necessary.”

However, when she sat down to a breakfast and with tiered tea sets and freshly baked scones, mimosas and tea, she wasn’t so sure that it wasn’t necessary after all. The prophet was folded nicely on her plate and so she was halfway through the business section when Antonin stumbled to the table. “No eggs.” He said, his voice still rough from sleep.

“No eggs.” She raised her teacup to that.

After he had finished a plate of scones and two cups of tea he looked up from the section of the Prophet he was reading. “I take it you’ve noticed the owls.”

“It’s terrifying.” She said buttering another scone.

“Answer a letter and they’ll leave, or give me until after breakfast and I’ll light the whole flock on fire and they won’t come back ever again.”

A house elf stood beside her with a tray of letters and she plucked one off the top and handed it to Antonin who was sitting next to her. “Open it.”

He sighed and opened it for her, unfurling the letter. “ _ Dear Hermione Granger, we are pleased to welcome you back to Hogwarts School _ -” He tossed the letter back to her “It’s just your usual rubbish, why did you avoid it for so long?”

She flipped open the letter to read her usual acceptance drivel when the parchment went blank.

Letters began to appear, written by an invisible calligrapher. “ _ Miss Granger _ ,  _ If you are reading this we have ascertained your location and you are still in death eater custody, this portkey will activate in two minutes. Your parents are safe.” _ _  
_

She dropped it and stumbled back away from the table, dropping the letter on the ground. “It’s a portkey. They’re all portkeys.” She waved her hand and caught the letter on fire.

Antonin looked up from his plate. “Charmed?”

“I won’t touch another.” She said looking at the plates of letters “Burn them all.”

Antonin watched the letter burn on the carpet, catching a glimpse of the missive before it disappeared. He picked up the toast he had just buttered and stalked out of the dining room, leaving Hermione with the house elves who were cleaning up the ashes.

There was a loud thunder and the whole house began to rattle. She heard someone racing down the stairs “Tonin!” yelled Corban as he ran down the hallway, struggling to put on a robe over his pajama pants. “Antonin, don’t you  _ fucking dare _ .” 

The front door opened and slammed shut. Hermione turned away from the letters in the dining room and moved towards the front door. The birds were gone and she could see sunlight now streaming in through all the windows.

Hermione opened the front door and saw that gardens were in disarray, many trees were completely bare of leaves, and the missing leaves were now raining down on the green grasses. The owls were now circling just out of reach of the property in streams that looked like black rain clouds in the distance.

“The gardens are ruined, the roses are now  _ gone _ . What is Hermione going to think?” Corban said in the drive.

“She’s going to think it’s a damn sight better than being swarmed by owls,” Antonin said picking some rose petals out of his hair.

“And  _ how _ are we going to get our post?” He asked.

Hermione leaned against the door jamb and smiled, watching the two men squabble in the drive over the gardens even as elves began to clean up the mess. “They’re portkeys.” 

“What is?” Corban asked her.

“The Hogwarts letters, all of them.” She waved to the birds off in the distance. “I’m being bombarded with illegal portkeys. There’s no way the Ministry sanctioned all of these.”

“Do you want him arrested, love?” Corban asked.

“With what proof? There’s no name at the bottom, just speculation that whoever is sending Hogwarts letters is Headmaster Dumbledore and he happens to have some charm that duplicates portkeys quickly.” 

Corban looked back over the ruined gardens and sighed, shoving his hand in his robe pockets and turning back up the stairs. It was the first time she had taken time to admire his body, lean and fit from years of dueling and police work, she could see a smattering of chest hair crisscrossed by scars on top of scars. “Did you have breakfast yet?” He asked, one hand smoothly coming around her waist, kissing the top of her head.

She watched Antonin in the drive and didn’t see disgust or jealousy as Corban kissed her, but  _ desire _ . Hermione wondered if she could really have what happened in Heaven again, or if she was just being selfish. She looked up at Corban and smiled. “Of course, but we really must talk about the elves.”

“Are they giving you a hard time?” He said as they walked back to the dining room.

“I think they should be paid some wages and weekends.”

Corban screwed up his face and looked at her. “What do you mean weekends? Who will take care of the house?”

“It’s not  _ right _ .” She insisted “They’re slaves.”

“They’re  _ elves _ .”

* * *

 

Professor Snape came back later that afternoon while the three of them were relaxing underneath a leafy oak tree that was close to the lake. The back gardens seemed limitless, green as far as she could see and not another human or house in sight. Corban was doing more casework next to her as she read  _ Blood Collection and Containment _ that she found in a stack of books in the study. Antonin slept on the grass near her feet, the lake breeze blowing every so often and causing his dark hair to fall over his face.

A shadow fell over her pages and she looked up. “Professor.” She greeted.

Corban didn’t look up from his casework and Antonin opened one eye before closing it.

“Miss Granger.” He replied curtly “I have to...apologize for yesterday.”

She shook her head, partially in disbelief “We’ve all been misled. Did you manage to get into Heaven?”

“I was permitted into the lab, and you were correct. Those ingredients went missing during the school year last year and at first, I thought it was  _ your _ doing again, but we had discovered it was Barty Crouch Jr.”

“What a checkered past you have, Hermione,” Antonin said near her feet, and she nudged his head with her foot.

“There were two cabinets full of blood samples, but most of the blood was useless by the time I cataloged it, it was stored improperly, which I presume is due to the lack of experience by our brewer.” Professor Snape said looking away from the three of them and over the lake. “Two hundred and thirty-nine girls overall.”

“How many were useful?” Hermione asked.

“Around sixty.”

“Blood keeps for six weeks.” She said holding the book up “With no special measures taken. So ten donors a week.”

“Even the most basic of stasis charms would have kept the blood viable.” Professor Snape sneered.

“They’re only taking the samples to test the potency, they don’t need to keep the samples, they need to keep the girls,” Antonin added. “The question is, where do they keep the girls that are potent? A blood ritual requires fresh blood.”

“So then why do they keep all the samples? Just to leave a trail?”

“Everyone’s blood has a bit of magic in it,” Corban said, finally closing the case file “Maybe they were there in case they needed backups?”

“Backups for a ritual?” Hermione asked in disbelief.

“You can never be too careful.” Antonin hummed.

“How many sacrifices do you think they’re going to need, Antonin?” Hermione pressed.

“If they’re really doing Hogwarts?” Antonin replied

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“The answer is obvious, love, how many girls did you meet in Heaven?” Corban asked beside her.

“Thirtysomething.” She replied.

“Thirtysomething it is.” He said with a touch of finality.

She turned her attention back to her professor, closing the book she was reading. “And Lewis Catchepoole?”

There was no response, and Corban asked for her. “Severus, did you ask about Lewis Catchepoole?”

He seemed to be struggling in coming up with an answer, his brows were furrowed together and then finally he shook head in affirmative.

Antonin sat up quickly, startling her. “Wand oath? Blood oath?”

Her Professor rolled up one of his black wool sleeves and sitting just underneath the dark mark were two fresh cuts on his skin. She looked over at Corban who had just muttered  _ fuck _ under his breath.

“I can’t be of any more use to you.” Professor Snape said, rolling down his sleeve “Miss Granger, if we run into one another again, I will return you to where you belong.”

Antonin tensed next to her. “And where is that Severus?”

He looked back at the house that was a few hundred yards behind them and back at the three of them “Until we meet next time, Yaxley, Dolohov.”

“He’s slippery.” Antonin grumbled next to her. “Keep away from him, Hermione.”

“He’s subtle, and he’s, as Corban puts it,  _ fucked _ .” Hermione defended. “Give him a break.”

“So I suppose this Lewis Catchepoole is something that The Order wants to keep close to the chest,” Corban said as Hermione leaned back against the tree.

“Whoever he really is, he’s not someone The Order wants people to know about,” Hermione said, sunlight filtering through the leaves and playing patterns on her eyelids. “Strange considering he was a muggle up until 91. No one would really know who Catchepoole was, so why be so secretive about his identity?”

The three of them sat in silence for a bit, and she felt Antonin lay back down on the grass, and soon, his rhythmic breathing, the leaves, and the sunlight lulled her into a light afternoon nap, listening to Corban beside her fill in paperwork.

She woke up later, as the sun was flirting with the roof of the house, curled up with Antonin in the grass, Corban was gone, presumably to the Ministry. She shifted to try and get the sun out of her eyes and Antonin hummed behind her. “Awake?”

She rolled over to look at him. “Where’s Corban?”

“Had an idea,” Antonin said propping his head on his hand and looking down at her. “Said he’ll be back for dinner, whenever that ends up being.”

She studied him for a moment and wondered at what point in her life she had gotten this comfortable being this close to a man who’s curse scar ran down the middle of her body. A few things came to mind: was it wrong to want him? Was it cheating on Corban if she did? And why did it feel so normal?

Antonin looked away from her and focused on something a bit off in the distance, she turned to see what it was, but only saw clouds disappearing underneath the rolling hills.

“When I was in Azkaban, sometimes I’d dream about this.” He said. “When Yax and I were growing up, we’d spend every afternoon under this tree in the summer.”

“I could spend every afternoon like this.” She said, closing her eyes again, letting the last rays of sun warm her. “The war, The Order, the Dark Lord, it feels  _ less _ today.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Hermione gave him a small smile.

“I’m glad to be of service.” Antonin said.

She cracked open one eye to see him smiling at her.

“Idiot.”

He leaned closer to her, his nose a few inches from hers, his hair tickling her cheek. “I’m glad to be of service.”

“Antonin.” She said, her heart suddenly pounding like mad.

His kiss was brief and warm, like a summer breeze. He let his lips brush against hers.

“I’m glad to be of service.” He murmured and kissed her again.

* * *

Corban returned at around nine after the sun went down, and after Hermione and Antonin had adjourned to the study to wait for him. She was curled up with a cup of tea next to Antonin on the couch, trying to ignore the hunger pains from waiting so long for dinner.

Corban sat a bundle of newspapers on the coffee table in the study, it was about two and a half feet worth of daily news. She looked up from the book on storing blood. “What is that?”

“I tried to find any Ministry arrests of Catchepoole because a wizard kicking up that much of a fuss should have had at least one run in with the Ministry of Magic, but of course, there was no record because of course Dumbledore’s _ Boy’s Club _ is running around the Ministry making information disappear faster than fiendfyre.” He said tugging on the twine. “But then I thought about the record televisions and information you can’t make disappear, and I came up with this.”

“The Prophet?” Antonin said beside her, plucking the newspaper off the top “91?”

“Ah,” Hermione said “He was a muggle up until 91, are you thinking whatever wizard is Catchepoole somehow made a media appearance before going into hiding as someone else?”

Yaxley scratched his five o’clock shadow and nodded. “Right.”

Hermione picked up another paper but Antonin took it out of her hand. “Dinner first.”

“Dinner first.” She agreed and looked up at Corban who looked relieved that no one had mocked his idea.

Corban helped her off the couch and gave her a kiss on the forehead before leading her to dinner and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt for what Antonin and her had done in the field earlier. She couldn’t have two wizards, especially two wizards that were best friends, but Heaven still nagged at her. She had them both at once for only a few minutes, and couldn’t get the thought out of her head.

“Tough day at work?” She asked as they walked down the hall to the dining room.

He smiled at the question. “Leaving you to go file a bunch of time off requests and expense reports was the toughest thing I’ve done in awhile.”

“You always were a bit clingy.” Antonin replied, but she could hear his teasing tone.

“I rather like clingy.” She said entering the dining room and the table was full for dinner, she smiled at the absence of eggs “I rather like Yaxley Manor.”

“Ah, love, where have you been all my life?” Corban said pulling out her chair before sitting down “Asks me about my day  _ and _ compliments me and my drafty old house.”

Halfway through dinner and a bottle of Chardonnay, Fianna popped into the dining room. “A Misters Malfoy is here to see Master Corban.”

Hermione stopped laughing at Antonin’s tale of a wizard who got caught cheating on his wife with her sister and sobered immediately. “A who?”

“A young Mister Malfoy and an old Mister Malfoy.” Fianna reiterated.

Antonin got up first, picking up the bottle of wine Hermione had been drinking and her glass. “I told you it was dangerous to bring the girl here. Come on, princess.”

“Fianna, I thought I said no visitors.” Corban said and sighed, picking up his glass as well. “I suppose a Malfoy doesn’t know the word no.”

Hermione and Antonin started up the stairs and she looked back at Corban who was watching them. He raised his glass before stalking to the front door. “What could they possibly want?”

“A favor.” Antonin said walking down the hall next to her “If a Malfoy comes to visit you, they want a favor, or they’ve asked for a favor and you haven’t delivered.”

“Did a Malfoy ask for a favor?”

“He did.” 

“Did you deliver?”

“We did.” 

“What was the favor?”

“Something to do with that brat he’s been raising.” Antonin waved it off “Lucius is always coddling him.”

Hermione snickered as Antonin opened the doors at the end of the hallway into a greenhouse. “No one will bother us here.” He said and with a flick of his wrist, the pathway was illuminated by small lights. “I think sometimes Yaxley forgets that he has a greenhouse on this floor, but the house elves keep it well enough.”

The plants followed her, craning their leaves and flora as they walked through the greenhouse. Antonin was watching something out the greenhouse windows as they reached a small table, and she stepped up next to him to see what it was. 

Lucius Malfoy, who looked nothing like she remembered Lucius Malfoy to be, was gesturing wildly to Corban who was standing on the back porch. He was dirty and gaunt, his features drawn and a five o’clock shadow was becoming a beard. All over his body were white cloths wrapped as tourniquets. Draco was nowhere in sight.

“Having the Dark Lord in your house all the time must drive you mad, he looks sick.” Hermione said, taking another sip of wine.

“This, princess, is what happens when people find out you have potent blood.” He replied, “they draw more and more blood as they require more and more rituals, Lucius is protective over that brat, and that’s probably what tonight is about.”

“Tonight?”

They watched Lucius grab Corban’s hands and he seemed more desperate than ever. “If The Order gets a hold of you, you’ll be their Lucius, just a vessel to complete blood rituals.”

Hermione sat down at the table and looked at Antonin, a silhouette against the night sky, watching Corban and Lucius beneath him. “Did you know?”

He looked back over his shoulder at her. “Did I know that The Order wanted you to become a Lucius?”

“Yeah.”

“I think the Order has known for a long time that they wanted you to become a vessel for rituals, why else would Lewis Catchepoole be keeping tabs on you for so long?” He said finally stepping away from the window as something outside lit up “But I knew.”

“How?”

“You smell like summer.” He said simply. “Your magic smells like summer.”

She smiled into her wine glass, was this flirting? It felt like it. She was that warm kind of comfortable that came only when Corban was around. There were more flashes of spells outside that lit them up as they talked, about different scents of magic, and what a ponce Lucius Malfoy was.

However, Hermione couldn’t get the image out of her head of a desperate man who had been turned into a blood bank, trying to save his family from the evil he was steeped in.


	17. A Talent for Life

“Why did you join up with the Dark Lord in the first place?” She asked later that night, close to midnight but not quite there yet, sitting at Corban’s feet, pouring over a paper from September 3rd, 1991.

Antonin and Corban both looked at each other over her head and then Corban said “Family.” 

To which Antonin pointed at his friend and said “His family.”

“What do you mean?”

Corban seemed to be mulling over his answer because he began to stroke her curls absentmindedly as she read through the paper. “I suppose it would be a lie to just say it was something to do, but it sounds much worse to say that we were all scared of what the muggles would do to our children. To live constantly in fear of alerting muggles about magic and to watch many old sites get taken over by muggles for redevelopment, it’s hard, you know? And-”

“And there was no other option,” Antonin said quietly.

“And there was no other option, if you were in  _ the book _ whether you agreed to it or not, you were fucked.”

“What book?”

“The  _ directory _ . Which was a book of people you needed to harass about your cause.” Corban “You either had Grindelwald, the Dark Lord, or squibs and Dumbledore at your house. So, of course, who gave us a better deal? The people threatening to kill your family and steal your land for  _ redevelopment _ or the people threatening to kill your family and steal your land for  _ the cause _ .”

“Which was which?” Hermione said, looking up at Corban.

“Does it matter? It’s easier to give up your only son than your estate, and it might have been a protection racket, but it worked, squibs stopped sending us mail, stopped coming to the house demanding we give them our land piecemeal.”

“Squibs back home had already divvied up my land.” Antonin said, “it wasn’t a far stretch that they were asking for the same here.”

“So we joined together, we fought together, and when Tonin was sent to Azkaban, I spent fourteen years trying to get him out, but the whole world wanted to forget, what do you know of Grindelwald? What do you know about the first war, love?”   


“Grindelwald was killed by Dumbledore in-”   


“Grindelwald isn’t dead.” Corban corrected “He’s imprisoned.”

She looked up from the paper, confused. “What?”

“Both sides did a lot of things that they don’t want people to remember, but you know, whoever wins gets to tell the story.” Antonin waved off, annoyed. “You know what else they don’t tell you, Dumbledore and Grindelwald were about as close as me and Yax.”

Hermione frowned, looking at a marriage announcement of some Parkinson in the society pages. “People know this?”

“The most powerful wizard of all time beat by a transfiguration professor?” Antonin said sipping his firewhiskey “Seems a bit fishy, princess.”

She flipped another page in the newspaper and mulled over the information. “What did Mister Malfoy want?”

“It’s  _ Lord _ Malfoy to you,” Corban said nudging her with his leg and when she looked up at him, horrified, he laughed. “Don’t give him any airs, love, Malfoy, the great bloody ponce he is, wanted his little brat to stay here instead of the Manor.”

“Why?”

“Because like Lucius, Draco has ritual blood.” Antonin supplied. “And judging by how pale Lucius is, there’s a reason we haven’t been seeing much of our lord, because our  _ lord _ has been doing research on blood magic and using Lucius as his guinea pig.”

“Where is Grindelwald now?” Hermione asked “Azkaban…” she trailed off, not wanting to complete the sentence.

“Azkaban is gone?” Antonin asked.

She hadn’t wanted to say it directly.

“He was never at Azkaban, they locked him in his own castle, which sounds poetic, but even you have to admit love, it doesn’t seem very harsh.” Corban said and tossed the paper he was studying on the coffee table, pinching the bridge of his nose “To be honest, I have no idea what we’re looking for.”

“Masters-” Fianna said, looking panicked “Master Malfoy! In the foyer.”

Antonin sighed irritably and got up. “Does he ever take ‘no’ for an answer?”

The three of them walked down the hallway together, Antonin agreeing to take her to her bedroom while Corban dealt with Lucius for the final time tonight. As Hermione passed the foyer on her way to the west wing. She saw Finn and Fianna tugging on the body of Lucius Malfoy, who was half in and half out the front door, a mess of hair and robes lying face down on the carpet.

She was down the stairs first, as fast as her feet could take her even as Corban yelled for her to stop. No matter how much she hated Lucius Malfoy, she knew that they were the same, valued for their blood and blood only. His fate was one she had only dodged by a few weeks. She had seen enough death this week, she would do anything to prevent another corpse.

Hermione brushed his ratty blonde hair aside and began to feel for a pulse. “Mister Malf-” Antonin yanked her away from the body and she yelped. “Let go!”

“Stop.” His voice was deadly. “We’ll handle it, I don’t want him waking up and cursing you.”

Corban crouched down next to Lucius and tilted his head over as she had seen him do with so many corpses before. “You don’t need to touch him, you’re a witch Hermione, feel his magic, is it present? Is it strong?”

She sighed and closed her eyes, sensing for the magic that Antonin had always asked her to look for, she felt it, a warm breeze,  _ summer _ . “Yes.” She said finally “I feel his magic.”

“Fianna put him in one of the bedrooms, get him some blood replenisher, and clean him up, he looks disgusting,” Corban said standing back up.

“Please,” Hermione added.

“Please,” Corban repeated, annoyed.

* * *

Corban woke her when he moved a bit, she had fallen asleep curled up on top of him, her head on his shoulder, his hand in her hair. She belatedly realized that Antonin had come back into the study to talk to the two of them.

“I’ll trade you,” Corban said quietly, hoping not to disturb the sleeping girl.

She inhaled his scent before raising her head and sliding off of him onto the couch. “Trade me?”

“Awake?” He leaned over and captured her lips briefly. She hummed into the kiss. Like most things with Corban, everything he did was so natural.

“Mister Malfoy?” She asked after Corban had sat back up.

“You wound me by talking about another man when I’m right here,” Corban whined.

She kicked him with her foot and rolled over on her side, looking up at Antonin, who looked exhausted.

“He’s stable now, he lost a lot of blood and clearly hasn’t been taking care of himself,” Antonin replied running his fingers through his hair. “I need a nap, at the least. He’s asking for the Lord of the Manor.”

“Ah, suddenly I’m a lord.” Corban got up from the couch. “Hermione, you should get some sleep too.”

“He’s okay, really?” She asked and yawned.

Antonin gave her a smile. “You don’t need to concern yourself, I’m sure Lucius will be gone before you wake up.”

* * *

The three of them were eating breakfast and Hermione was flipping through the morning Prophet. She was wearing a set of velvet robes that she was sure belonged to Corban, because the sleeves were a bit too long and it dragged on the floor as she walked, but she only had two pieces of clothing of her own and she was loathe for the idea to go back to her house and run into any Order members.

“The house elves said I would find you here.”

Hermione didn’t move, a forkful of french toast in her mouth, she didn’t even chew. Antonin was quicker than her on the uptake. Standing up slowly, pushing his chair back as he did so.

“And a Miss Granger.” Lucius continued, sitting down next to Corban who was setting his teacup down. “You look much different than when I last saw you.”

She withdrew the fork from her mouth and began to cut another piece of French toast. Bathed, brushed, and healed, Lucius looked more like she remembered him and less like the desperate man she had seen yesterday. “The same can be said for you, Mister Malfoy.”

Lucius, acting like a mudblood was not sitting ten feet away began to pour himself some tea. “Oh really, Dolohov, I’m not stupid enough to attack a girl who is sitting at the head of your table after you saved my life last night.”

Antonin sat down and eyed him warily. “I should have left you dead in the doorway.”

“But you didn’t,” Lucius said. “So-”

“So, what rituals were you involved in?” Hermione asked, trying to avoid the impending fight.

“Location spells mostly.”

“Location spells?” Hermione asked.

“You see, the Dark Lord is looking for Grindelwald.” Lucius said, picking out a scone and putting it on his plate “He believes that Grindelwald has some sort of powerful object.”

“I thought Grindelwald lived in that castle?” Hermione asked.

Antonin got up quickly and strode out of the room. “Temper. Temper.” Lucius chastised.

“So, this is why you didn’t want to take Draco for the rest of the summer?” Lucius pointed his butter knife at Hermione and Corban looked over at him.

“No one wants to take that spoiled brat that you’ve raised, Lucius,” Corban replied. “I’d rather take a hippogriff.”

Lucius inhaled sharply and she put two and two together.

“You  _ knew _ about the hippogriff?” Hermione asked, incredulously.

“There’s only so many people at the Ministry, my little love, and there’s only so many people who Lucius Malfoy can go to for favors.” Corban snickered and continued to butter his toast. “I think another day by the lake is in order. Lucius, either go back to being on death’s doorstep or your  _ own _ doorstep, because my hospitality is running out quickly.”

“Oh, you always were a bit of a dick, Yaxley.” Lucius huffed.

Antonin came in carrying a copy of the Daily Prophet and tossed the headline to Corban. A younger Albus Dumbledore was waving and shaking hands with another wizard under the headlines. BLACK FOREST ARTIFACTS RETURNED: DIPLOMACY RESTORED. “In the article, it says in exchange for some old rot about Quidditch Artifacts the German Ministry gave the British Ministry a necklace and two wands.”

“A necklace?” Hermione asked.

Corban opened the prophet and skimmed the pages until he found a picture of a glimmering necklace with a strange symbol. “I’ll be damned.” Corban whispered, “The necklace, being considered muggle in origin due to the clasp, is in custody of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Division.”

“Arthur Weasley,” Antonin said smugly.

“Muggle origin due to the clasp?” Hermione said sitting back in her chair “Ridiculous excuse. What is so important about this necklace?”

“Oh you know,” Lucius said, “It can summon Grindelwald.”

“Oh,” Hermione said and looked down at her plate. “So Headmaster Dumbledore’s had the ability to portkey his old best friend since 1991?”

“It would seem so.” Corban said folding down the paper “I believe it’s time to go to the Ministry, finish your breakfast, love, we have to go intimidate someone.”

“The muggle way, due to the clasp.” She added.

Lucius laughed. A year ago, it would have made all her hairs stand on end, but now, she couldn’t help but crack a smile.

* * *

She was sitting in a leather chair in a cramped office that was crowded with  _ junk _ , it was the best way to describe what was the decor in Arthur Weasley’s office. Corban was flipping through case files and Antonin was poking around the shelves looking for something, Hermione wasn’t sure what.

“Mr. Malfoy seemed nice.” She said as they waited for Mr. Weasley to return.

“Lucius wants a favor, and the easiest way to get Yax to do a favor is to be good to you,” Antonin said playing with the door to a toaster oven. “You catch more flies with honey.”

“Oh.” She paused, not realizing she had ever become that important to the man across the desk. “Is that how it is?”

Corban hummed in agreement as the doorknob twisted. “Mister Dolohov.” Mr. Weasley said, sounding surprised, “and Mister Yaxley, and Miss Granger. Miss Granger, I had heard-”

“You don’t need to speak to her,” Antonin said, shutting the door, the walls glowed blue and then the sound from the office outside was gone, leaving them in a ringing silence. “Take a seat, Arthur.”

Antonin steered Mr. Weasley into the leather seat next to her and Hermione, disgusted with him being so close to her got up and stood behind Corban. She had a lot of things to say now that he was in front of her, but nothing seemed to be coming to mind. He looked so unassuming for being the man who was doing dirty work for the muggle ministry. Hermione almost thought it was a mistake. She remembered the corpse. Almost.

“Right, how can I help you gentlemen, and how can I convince you to let our Hermione go.”

Corban bristled next to her, but Hermione was quicker.

“Last time I checked, I didn’t  _ belong _ to you, Mr. Weasley.” She snapped.

“Hermione, my dear, if you’re staying because they have your family. If you’re staying because they-”

The room glowed red and Corban was leaning over the desk, holding the curse until Mr. Weasley let out a shout of pain and then the curse faded. Hermione felt guilt thrum through her and something else: pleasure. She closed her eyes and tried to school her features when she opened them again, Mr. Weasley was doubled over and shaking and Antonin was looking at her curiously.

“Go ahead, princess, ladies first.” Antonin encouraged.

A few questions came to mind as Arthur Weasley was twitching, trying to regain some composure after the cruciatus, but only one word came out: “Why?”

“Why,  _ what _ ?” He snapped. She had never seen Mr. Weasley get mad, but she supposed being tortured in your own office changed that.

“Why would you do that to muggles, Mr. Weasley? I thought well-” She gestured to the room “-you rather liked muggles?”

“Why would I do what? Work on better relations with the Prime Minister? Help the muggles keep their government running smoothly?”

“Is that what you call enslaving women and erasing their memories?” Hermione replied, scandalized “How can you  _ justify _ that?”

“We all make sacrifices for the greater good.” Mr. Weasley replied deadpan and Hermione was enraged.

“How  _ dare you _ . How dare you use women as fucking...fucking sacrifices because they’re muggles? How would you like it if I tossed Ginny into a brothel so you could fund another family dinner at The Order?”

“No one was forced. These women were doing it anyway.” Arthur replied. It was the same thing Tonks had said in her hotel room. She seethed.

“Where’s the necklace, Weasley,” Antonin asked, kicking his chair and making Mr. Weasley flinch. “You know, the one with the muggle clasp.”

“What necklace?” He asked, but his eyes betrayed him. He knew.

“Here’s the thing, Arthur,” Corban said, looking up at Hermione. “You can answer questions, or I can rip through your mind like a fucking piece of parchment. We forgot the veritaserum this afternoon, but then again, I don’t need it to get you to talk.”

Arthur tugged on his sleeve and Hermione frowned. She knew what he was trying to hide. “Blood magic won’t protect you from us, Mr. Weasley, it may protect the secrets, but it’s not going to protect  _ you _ .”

Corban leaned over his desk and pushed up the sleeve that Arthur was trying to protect to reveal the two white lines. The same lines Severus had. His free hand came under Arthur’s chin and smiled.

It was a few moments of silence in the room, Hermione started to pick through the various Fisher-Price toys that were all stashed in one corner. The chair began to rattle and she turned back to see Arthur’s entire body shaking.

Corban let go of his head and Arthur slumped forward, passed out. “A memory block, I can’t push past it, the junior auror had the same thing, but this time it wasn’t just about Lewis Catchepoole, it was about the damned necklace too.”

“So, a dead end?”   


“Not quite, there was a memory, an indirect one, involving the necklace.”

And?”

“Albus Dumbledore. The block hits when a door opens.”

“And Lewis Catchepoole enters.”  Hermione supplied and looked at Arthur Weasley who was crumpled in his own chair and pursed her lips. “Merlin, he didn’t even  _ care _ .”

“I think, princess, you’re going to find a lot of people aren’t going to give two knuts about the two hundred or so muggle whores that The Order disposed of for some supplemental income,” Antonin said, opening the office door. “I’ll clean this up, and we’ll go get some lunch.”

Hermione stepped outside, anger roiling around inside of her at the injustice of it all. Corban followed her out and she turned back towards him, looking up at the man who had tortured Arthur Weasley with ease and stepped closer to him, sliding her hands around his waist and laying her head on his chest. His arms came around her immediately, his fingers stroking her hair.

“No one cares.” She said, her voice muffled by fabric.

“I care, Tonin cares.” He kissed her on the top of her head “Plenty of people  _ will _ care once we have enough evidence to tie it to the right people.”

There was a ding of the lift but she ignored it, sighing and trying to fight her  _ anger _ over every muggle woman just being a means to an end instead of a woman with a life and a family. Would wizards really care about muggle war crimes?

“You’ll love it.” A voice that made her heart stop said “Dad’ll take us there right after, and then we can go pick up some new broom polish. I’m sure you-”

“Alright,” Antonin said stepping out of the office “Let’s go get some lunch.”

“Death Eaters.” It was Ron.

Hermione steeled herself, if it wasn’t one thing, it was another. She stepped back from Corban and saw that she was completely hidden behind Antonin. Who was Ron talking to?

“It’s not wise.” Corban said stepping in front of her “To call Ministry employees Death Eaters.”

“It’s the truth, ain’t it?” Ron spat and she closed her eyes. Idiot. “What did you do to my dad?”

“Nothing he didn’t deserve, I’m sure.” Another voice drawled from behind her, she turned to see Lucius Malfoy. “Is this what the poors do on holiday? Tour the government offices? Or perhaps you’re  _ working _ here now.”

Lucius Malfoy looked down at her and gave her a small smile and she never thought she’d be so happy to see him. She remembered what Antonin said about him trying to get a favor from Corban and schooled her feature into one of indifference. He gestured to her and she turned away from where she knew Ron was standing and began to walk down the hallway, one by one, Death Eaters filed behind her, blocking her from view.

There was a scuttle and a crash as Ron came tearing out of his father’s office. The four of them were waiting for the lift at the end of the hallway. She could hear his feet thundering down the hallway. “Oi! What did you do to my dad? He won’t wake up! I’m calling the aur-Hermione?”

She froze and looked back to see Ron Weasley staring at her, his face red from running or from anger, she wasn’t sure. The lift dinged and Lucius guided her in first.

Should she tell him everything she knew? That his father was a murderer? That his father was wiping the memories of prostitutes and enslaving them with amortentia? The only words that came out were barely above a whisper, each word was thick in her throat, her mouth was cottony. “I’m so sorry, Ron.” She was sorry that she had found out how Arthur Weasley paid for their school supplies each year when Ministry money didn’t make ends meet. She was sorry that she had wanted to torture him in his office. She was sorry that he would eventually become like Percy, another Weasley added to the cause.

“What-” He looked like he had been hit by a stunner.

“About Draco…” Lucius said as he pulled the lift doors shut.

“Merlin, Lucius,” Corban said pulling Hermione close to him, she was shaking. He kissed her temple and hushed her. “Fine,  _ fine _ , I have a summer home in Inverness.”

“What did I tell you? Honey.” Antonin said next to them, patting her head. 

“Lunch is on me then, I’ll buy.” Lucius said as the lift began to pull upwards “And you have to stop charming your clothes, my dear,” He pulled on a sleeve she had charmed shorter “Tell me when you’re free and Narcissa will come and shop with you.”

Hermione bit her lip and looked up at the pureblood supremacist who was sharing the lift with her. “You got what you wanted, you don’t have to continue.”

Antonin laughed.

“Oh no my dear, you do not know how hard it is to get Yaxley to give you a favor, if he’s given me one favor just by chance, I’m sure if I  _ work _ for it, I can get plenty more out of the DMLE.”

She looked up to see the dark shaft above them, wishing for some answers. What was she becoming that she thought she could threaten Arthur Weasley? What was she becoming that she was relying on Lucius Malfoy for favors? She was a traitor to The Order now, but what side did she belong on?

Antonin grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it. “Alright?”

She shook her head. “What am I doing?”

“Finding the truth,” Corban replied.

The truth hurt.

* * *

 

BONUS

Lucius, who was not twenty four hours ago laying face down on the threshold of death in the foyer was now leading them to a private booth in an upscale French restaurant on Diagon Alley, his robes billowing behind him as the maitre d’ who seemed to know Lucius by name, Lucius’ favorite wine by memory, and probably Lucius’ shoe size by heart, seated them all quickly and summoned another two waiters to immediately start pouring water and wines.

“Narcissa will be here shortly, she’s been staying with her mother for the time being.”

“The time being while the Dark Lord uses your house?” Hermione asked.

“Exactly.” Lucius looked over the menu briefly before setting it down. “What do you like?”

“Champag-”

“No.” Antonin and Corban said together. “A Riesling is fine for now.” Corban supplied hastily.

“Nous aurons une Grande Cuvee pour la femme.” Lucius murmured to the waiter “et le Pinot Noir pour les hommes.”

“It’s a good thing you’re filthy fucking rich, Lucius.” Corban warned.

“Why?” He asked as Narcissa took her seat next to her husband. “Miss Granger, my wife. Narcissa, this is Yaxley’s…”

“We’re bound.” Corban supplied.

Narcissa’s eyes darted to her hand and noted the absence of a ring.

“We were bound by wand oath,” Hermione said trying to clear up confusion “but now we have no wands.”   


“So now we’re just bound,” Corban said taking a sip of champagne.

A few hours later, a few bottles of champagne later, a few hundred galleons later, a tipsy Hermione and Narcissa were discussing what Corban and Antonin were like in school and laughing as the seamstress brought out bolt after bolt of fabric, Narcissa picking and choosing what robes Hermione would need as she laughed into a half-empty flute. Narcissa and Hermione were as thick as thieves after the second bottle left their table, and sisters after the third.

Lucius was leaning against the shop door that now said closed watching the fabric pile up on the counter. “Lucius, we’re buying this all for Hermione, she  _ needs _ it.” Narcissa waved. “We’re going to tea at the Parkinsons, and she needs it.”

“How can one girl need so much clothing?” Lucius said incredulously.

Antonin and Corban were sitting on a bench near the fitting rooms snickering.

“Lucius.” Narcissa warned.

“Hey, Lucius.” Corban called from across the shop as  _ another _ bolt of velvet appeared “It’s a good thing you’re filthy fucking rich, eh? I told you champagne was a bad idea.”

“I get it, I get  _ all _ of it.” He waved to the counter.

Madame Malkin was going to be a busy woman.  
  
Hermione held up the empty glass "More champagne!"

"I'll toast to that," Narcissa clinked her empty glass with Hermione's "Lucius, be a dear and get us another bottle of the grande cuvee." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's need for justice supersedes her need to be good to the Weasley's.
> 
> I, for one, love bloodthirsty Hermione.


	18. Death in the Slow Lane

Magic washed over her and she snapped her eyes open. It was that sickly magic that made her insides churn. The room was dark and then lightning struck, illuminating the whole room before fading.

There were noises out in the hallway and the room lit up again. Something was wrong. “Fianna.” She whispered, rolling over to face away from the door. “Fianna.”

“Mistress Hermione asks for me?” The house elf looked like she had just been summoned out of bed, she was rubbing her eyes and holding a ratty blanket.

“There’s something strange going on, Fianna. Is there a way for you to know if someone  _ else _ is in the house?”

The house elf’s ears perked up and then her large eyes opened wide. “Mistress Hermione is going to be a  _ good _ Mistress. There is someone else in the house, I shall greet the-”

“No.” Hermione said, panicked “I don’t think they’re a friend, can you get me to Corban, apparition or...?” She let the question hang.

Fianna looked nervous, shifting her weight from side to side as she responded: “House-elf magic is only...only can be done with family, there is a way.” She looked at the wall “Master will be mad.”

There was a hissing noise and smoke began to pour underneath the large doors to her bedroom. The house elf was pulling on her ears and then finally said: “but Master says that we must protect Mistress Hermione.”

The house elf tugged on her hand and she slid out of bed, following the elf to the wardrobe, and then through the back into another wardrobe. She frowned, how long had Corban had that sneaky way of spying on her? “Fianna checks, Mistress Hermione follows.”

Fianna opened the wardrobe door a crack and then pulled Hermione’s finger to motion for her to come. They stepped out into a room that was covered with a fine blanket of dust, all the furniture was covered in white cloth. Hermione heard voices outside the door and she ducked down behind what appeared to be a couch. The elf’s ears perked up and then flattened. “Many guests are now in the house Mistress Hermione.”

“Not friends. Not guests.” Hermione whispered to the elf, squeezing her hand. “They probably won’t look in this room, is it close to Corban or Antonin’s room? Oh! Can you bring him here?”

“Next room is Master’s.” The house elf said and winked out of sight.

Hermione sat on the ground and watched the house light up as the wards were assaulted, the walls rattled every so often and she pulled her knees closer to her chest. How many people were in the hall? How many people could she fight off at once?

The doors rattled and she peered around the edge of the couch. Was someone trying to break in? She looked at the back wall, french windows were full of the night sky. She could apparate somewhere, she supposed, the wards were keyed to her, but then where would she end up? The wood began to splinter and she felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. Her wandless magic was getting better, but she was a piss poor duelist.

“Please.” She said to whatever was listening. “Please let it only be two or I guess three, I could maybe do three.”   


There was a pop and she looked over expecting to see a house elf but instead saw Corban who was wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms. “Good morning, love.” He said, his voice raspy from sleep. “Need some help?”

Smoke began to billow across the floor and Corban grabbed her and with a crack, they reappeared in another bedroom. It was dark and silent except for the even breathing of Antonin in the large four-poster bed.

“Are we far away?”

“Antonin is next to your room.” Corban said and shook his friend awake “The house is under attack.”

“Bullshit,” Antonin said, rolling over and pushing his hair out of his eyes, Hermione whispered a lumos and he smiled at seeing her. “Good morning, princess, come to visit me in my dreams?”

Hermione looked out the windows next to his bed and frowned there was no indication that anything  _ was _ happening, or at least happening anymore. “There’s nothing, my room was like a fireworks show and there’s-”

Corban frowned and then waved his hand at the room, she heard it, the voices shouting, the walls began to rattle. “Silencing charm and a cloaking spell.” Corban explained

“How many?” Antonin asked, sitting up in bed and checking Hermione over before he slid out from underneath the covers.

“Many.” Hermione supplied.

“How many are many?” Antonin countered.

She shook her head.

“How did they get past the blood wards?” Antonin asked, yawning.

“Oh hold on,” Hermione said annoyed as the walls shook again “Let me go  _ ask _ .”

“Fussy girl,” Antonin said and grabbed her around the waist, and then before saying anything else, grabbed Corban and the three of them apparated out.

They were in a field in the middle of nowhere. Crickets were chirping and the milky way hung overhead. Corban cursed as Hermione regained her balance, stepping back from the two of them. “My  _ house _ Antonin. We should have defended the house.” 

“Oh come off of it, the house is fine,” Antonin said leaning back against a large stone that was close to them. “They’re going to figure out that no one is there and leave it be.”

“Hermione  _ loved _ the house,” Corban said dejectedly.

“I’m more happy that we’re all safe.” She said, hugging herself as a breeze came in.

If anyone had found them in this field they would be arrested, two men in pants with no shirts, and a girl with a shirt and no pants. She looked upwards and tried to give Corban who was pacing around the field and cussing some time to cool off.

“How did they get past the blood wards?” Antonin asked again.

“They  _ didn’t _ .” Corban seethed “None of the wards were activated.”

“Which means you invited them in.” Hermione said, “Or they are blood relatives.”

“Impossible.” Corban spat. “I am the last of my line.”

She bit her lip. “It was Catchepoole at any rate. I felt his magic, his magic is what woke me, but Fianna...I called Fianna and she didn’t know anyone was there.”

“We’re dealing with a powerful wizard to take down blood wards and not notify the bloodline or it’s servants.” Antonin mused “Or we’re dealing with someone who was invited in at some point in the past and has decided to switch sides, like Severus.”

“Severus.” Corban agreed “He said he’d return you where you belong, is this his way of making good on his promise?”

“I don’t think Professor Snape did this, he would have done it sooner, don’t you think? No, this is due to our visit to Mr. Weasley, and  _ Ron _ . This was a rescue mission plain and simple.” She waved her hand “Or a kidnapping, I guess, it’s all the same. Why didn’t they silence and cloak my room? They were planning on taking me while you two slept. I still-” She paused and sighed “I still really think they believe I’m a prisoner and not an equal, even though...even though it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“What’s obvious?” Antonin asked.

“That you...oh well you like me, don’t you?” She said, exasperated.

“Not what I would call it,” Antonin said, pulling on the back of her shirt “But if that’s what you want to call it.”

She turned around, looking at the shirtless man who was leaning against a rock twice his size, his black hair hung past his shoulders, and he was giving her a smile that ignited a heat in her despite the cold summer breeze. She shivered.

“Yax, the girl’s cold. I’m cold.” Antonin said, drawing her into him, Hermione came willingly “Let’s go back to the flat for now and check the manor over in the morning.”

Antonin squeezed her around the waist before offering one hand out behind her, she turned to look over her shoulder at Corban who was still seething over the loss of his house and finally looked at the two of them.

“We should defend the house.” He said as he took Antonin’s hand.

“A house is a house,” Antonin replied and the three of them apparated.

The flat was as unkempt as they had left it, a stack of photos of dead prostitutes still not sorted through on the table with a pile of blood samples. Empty glasses, empty firewhiskey bottles, empty vials of hangover potion. The flat, despite it being about the same size as her room at Yaxley Manor, was more comfortable than the entirety of Yaxley Manor.

“How long are they going to stay there?” Yaxley said toeing an empty bottle of firewhiskey at a loss for what to do next. “How long are they going to wreck my house?” 

Hermione yawned and turned towards Antonin’s bedroom, but Antonin seemed to have a different idea, pulling at the back of her shirt again. “We’re not having a repeat of before, Yaxley has the master bedroom, it’s the most fortified room in this shitty little flat, and you’ll be sleeping there.”

She rubbed her eyes and turned around and headed the opposite direction, flopping over on the bed and inhaling the cinnamon scent of Corban mixed with the wintry smell of Antonin.  _ Home _ .

The bed dipped on one side and then the other and she turned her head to see Antonin tugging the quilt out from underneath her “Come on princess, side-along apparition makes me tired.”

“You’re both going to sleep with me?” She asked, turning her head to the other side to see Corban just laying down on top of the quilt and rolling over to face her.

“Where else are we going to sleep?” Corban asked and then yawned.

“The other bedroom.”

There was no arguing apparently as after a bunch of shifting they were comfortably in the bed, Hermione laying on her back between the two men. It was warm and her heart was beating hard against her ribcage.

Antonin leaned over her, his hair curtaining his face, his eyes met hers and then his lips did as well. Soft and sweet, he kissed her only briefly before he laid down “Goodnight.”

Was this okay? She turned to look at Corban. Was he going to fight his best friend in bed for her?

Corban kissed her in much the same way, a quick peck on the lips “Goodnight.”

The lights went out and Hermione was staring at the ceiling. What just happened?

“So, is this like a threesome?” She finally said after listening to them breathing next to her for a bit.

“This is a threesome,” Antonin said in the darkness.

“Just like that.”

“Just like that, go to sleep love,” Corban replied.

A few more moments passed, her mind was racing.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.” Both of them said.

“Oh okay, goodnight.” Hermione leaned over in the darkness and kissed Corban, and then turned to kiss Antonin “Goodnight.”

“What a strange girl,” Antonin commented as he pulled her against them.

The room glowed with additional wards, and Hermione fell asleep listening to Antonin’s heartbeat, enveloped in the warmth of the bed.

* * *

Corban was picking through the wreckage of the second floor while Finn and Fianna trailed behind him. Hermione was standing in front of the remains of her room, the door was shattered all over the carpet, her bed was destroyed.

“Is nothing.” Fianna kept insisting as Corban walked down the hall, picking up picture frames of his dead relatives, asking each one if they were alright even when the canvas was now full of holes from the ashes. “Is nothing, Master.”

“We need a contractor, an interior designer.” There was a bang of something falling over “Someone to clean that up.” His voice trailed off as he went further into the house.

“This is The Order then,” Hermione said, her fingers tugging at the torched bedspread. “This is the good guys.”

Antonin was watching her, one part of her  _ threesome _ . She felt nervous even admitting it. She tried to move her comforter aside but it was heavy. When she tugged a little more, she saw that the jelly shoes Antonin had bought her when they had first met were now little more than a blob of plastic. Tears sprung to her eyes unbidden and she tugged at the melted plastic that was now fused to the comforter.  _ Ruined _ .

“Mistress Hermione, I is Lissie, a ma’am is waiting for you.” A new house elf, dressed in tartan bowed before her “In the foyer, she’s be’s…” The house elf paused before trying to continue “boxes.”

“Hello, Lissie,” Hermione said standing up straight and wiping the tears over her shoes away. She didn’t know  _ why _ such a small thing irritated her but it did. 

A timid looking seamstress was standing in the foyer surrounded by bags and boxes. “Are you  _ honey _ ?” She asked holding a card out with  _ Honey _ written in script next to Lucius Malfoy’s signature.

“Apparently.” Antonin groused “Lucius thinks he’s hilarious.”

“Hello, I’m Paris from Madam Malkin’s shop, and I’m here to fit your gowns and robes, honey.”

“It’s Hermione.” She corrected, peeking into a bag. “What does fitting entail?”

Antonin looked like he knew because he disappeared saying he was getting some food.

* * *

“Well is there any way to find out  _ who _ was here?” Hermione said, standing completely still in the study as yet another black gown was pinned at her hips.

Corban was flipping through some ratty file that she realized was Arthur Weasley’s employment record. “We’ll have to stay at the flat, for the time being, they’ll be back, you know.”

“So we’re at a dead end.” Hermione said exasperated “There’s no way to tie anyone to anything and we’re fucked.”

“We have to tie that necklace to Dumbledore and then Dumbledore to Grindelwald’s disappearance. Both pieces of information we only know through less than legal channels. All we have is that Arthur Weasley had the necklace last and now it’s gone.” Corban looked up at her and gave her an appreciative look even though he looked at his wit’s end “And then we have to figure out how Lewis Catchepoole fits into literally any of it.”

“Whatever it is, The Order doesn’t want us to find out,” Antonin said, watching the house elves lead an interior decorator past the study into the wing that had been attacked. “Or perhaps they’re getting desperate for Hermione.”

She was suddenly spelled into a different gown. “How many did Lucius  _ buy _ ?”

“Did you see anyone?” Antonin asked her, sitting in a chair next to Corban. “Heard anyone?”

She shook her head and then was suddenly back onto her charmed pajamas from this morning. “Some of these gowns need tailoring, but there are some day dresses and the like that are ready for your elf to retrieve and put away.” Paris said folding up her measuring tape “Mr. Malfoy has already paid so after I finish these dresses I’ll send them right along.”

Hermione let her arms down finally and sighed. “Thank you, is there a way to...for me to cover the bill?”

Paris shook her head and began to gather her things. “Thank you Mistress Yaxley, we look forward to doing much more business with you and yours.”

“Oh, and Paris?” Corban said.

“Yes Master Y-” She stood still as if she was hit by a stunner and then walked out the room.

“I hope she at least remembers all the measurements she took,” Hermione grumbled, sitting down next to Corban on the couch who shifted to let her close to him. “I wish you wouldn’t do that so often.”

“Are we going to let everyone know the case then? Shall we announce it in The Prophet?” He asked her flipping through another page in Arthur’s file. “Hm, interesting bit here, he was moved in early 91.”

“Moved from where?”

A smile spread on his face “ _ Magimuggle relations. _ ”

“But why was he moved?”

“He was moved when the necklace went into Ministry custody, but to be moved so timely he must have known months in advance.” He frowned and flipped through the next pages.

“Paperwork always fucks you over in the end.” Antonin mused next to them “Come, princess, let’s go back to the flat and get dressed for a day at the Ministry. Fianna!”

“Fianna is  _ busy _ , we can just take one or two things ourselves.” Hermione said opening bags and trying to find something modest. She was starting to realize that Malfoy’s are never anything but ostentatious. She pulled out a black two-piece skirt suit set that had freshwater pearls as piping and some black velvet robes. “This is good for now.”

It was the first time in her life that people began to defer to her. Corban said it was the clothes, but she was sure he had said something. Every witch and wizard they passed into the Ministry tilted their head and bid her good morning. “You said something.” She accused as they stepped into the lift.

Corban patted the hand she had hooked into his elbow. “Not a thing, love.”

She flushed scarlet and tried to pull her hand away, but he held it there. It was just so  _ novel _ to her to be in a relationship, she was still testing the waters. Antonin laughed as she struggled. “Let it be, princess. They should have acted this way from the start.”

“I just think it’s strange, I haven’t done anything to deserve respect.” She sighed and stopped resisting Corban, standing between the two as the lift plunged downwards to the Hall of Records.

“What do you want to do to deserve respect?” Antonin asked as the lift slowed to a stop “Solve a murder case? Fix corruption in the Ministry? Free slaves?”

“A start.” She said, her new heels clicked off the tile floors as they walked down the hall of records, and that was exactly what it was. A hallway with files and files that went on forever. “For now, I want to figure out why Lewis Catchepoole.”

Corban steered her to a stack of paper in boxes that lined one side of the hall. “These are change requests, laterally, which means no promotions, just requests put in to move around the Ministry.”

“It’s just a pile.” She said flipping through a few pages on top “and there are thousands here if these are all change requests.”

“Generally people know what they’re looking for and can accio the paper, but since we don’t know what we’re looking for, we have to dig.” Corban said transfiguring a chair for her first, and then himself “Start digging, we’ll find it when we see it.”

She had a pile on the Weasley’s started by her feet, mostly related to Percy as they were all the most recent ones, she thought it was curious that the Weasley’s spat on Malfoy for using his father, but all of these requests were signed off by Arthur. Nepotism was alive and well. A few hours later she came across Bill’s request to be transferred to Gringotts from the Ministry, neatly signed again by Arthur Weasley.

“Why does the Ministry allow all these requests to be put through with obviously just their father’s signature?” Hermione said holding up Bill’s request.

“You need one Ministry Department Head to sign off on any request, Arthur is the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, he’s the  _ only _ person in that department since it didn’t exist until he was transferred.”

Hermione sighed and stretched in the chair “So, no one but us has seen how strange it is that an entire department was created to house  _ one _ necklace for Dumbledore?”

“Most likely the department paperwork was filed months if not years before it was created, this was much more calculated than just a few weeks,” Antonin said flipping over a stack of papers and starting from the bottom, looking for something  _ anything _ . “It wouldn’t seem strange if the necklace was the first item, it certainly wasn’t the only thing to go through there.”

“Ah, look, 1991,” Corban said flipping through pages excitedly now that he had gotten the right year. He leaned over and handed a stack to Hermione “Go through this.”

She flipped through the signatures on the bottom right corner of the pages and then stopped when she saw the flourished script of Albus Dumbledore.

“ _ Due to altercations at Ten Downing Street between a magical and muggle (one Mister Lewis Catchepoole) we have seen fit to transfer Arthur Weasley to a department involving Muggle objects and their study _ .” She read aloud “It was punishment, it was bloody punishment, wizards think so lowly of muggles that they wouldn’t blink twice at punishing someone by studying muggle objects, that’s why no one cared about the necklace, if it was muggle, it was beneath them.”

“Is there anything else about Lewis Catchepoole? The altercation?” Corban asked.

“Nothing here, it references a case.” Her eyes lit up and she held her hand up,  _ nothing _ . She frowned “ _ Accio 91700427” _

A file landed in her hand and she could feel it buzzing with magic, it felt like she had stuck her hand in coals, she hissed and dropped it, cradling her hand. “This is it, this is the case.”

“Break the curse, Tonin, and let’s get out of here, if it was warded, there’s probably a notification-”

“Two death eaters and their mudblood whore.” Mad Eye Moody’s voice was deadened by the papers stacked on either end of the hallway. Hermione looked up from the warded file folder and saw three aurors standing behind him: Kingsley, Tonks, and another auror she swore she had seen before.

“Hermione,” Kingsley’s voice was booming. “Come with us.”

“Done trying to woo her?” Corban asked vanishing the chairs as Hermione shoved the change request into her skirt pocket. “Just going to boss her about a bit?”

“Ah well,” Moody said, eying the file folder at her feet. “What can you do? We don’t need the folder anymore, Arthur’s close to outliving his usefulness anyway, save the girl, destroy everything else.”

Antonin set up a ward but it broke as quickly as it was erected. “Go.” He barked. “Go, we’ll catch up in a minute.”

Hermione didn’t need to be told twice as a stunner sailed past her ear. She bent down and grabbed the case file, hissing as the warding made contact with her skin and  _ ran _ . Everything she wore today was an impediment, heels: discarded, skirt that probably cost her tuition at Hogwarts: ripped, robe that tripped her more than her heels: in the hallway somewhere. She ran, ran until her heart was about to give out and the buttons on her smart two-piece suit popped off. She couldn’t feel her hand anymore. Instead, the burning sensation was beginning to crawl up her arm. She looked down to see if she was still holding the file folder at all and squeezed her hand experimentally. It still worked, even if it hurt, it still worked.

Where were they? She turned around and realized she had run too far. There was no one in this hallway but her. There were no noises except for her panting. She stood between the stacks of records and looked down the seemingly endless hall of records. Was there a lift? Should she turn back into danger? Hermione decided to walk for a bit, giving Antonin and Corban a moment to catch up.

As she turned another corner the burning in her arm was clawing at her shoulder, she had to hold it with both hands because her whole arm felt like dead weight. She was gritting her teeth and trying to ignore the pain, but there was  _ so much _ . It was spreading through her, it was making her bones ache. She had to get this folder out. This folder would  _ prove _ that Arthur Weasley was the reason Lewis Catchepoole had died.

“Miss Granger.” A voice, both her hands were numb.

He looked like Dumbledore, but not, no beard, dark eyes, white hair, and made out of bones and fabric. “Sir.” She said politely “I’m looking for the lift.”

Suddenly her shoes appeared in his hands and with a smile, he offered them to her. “A few things, I think.” 

The curse was spreading up her other arm now, it was starting to make her cry. She swallowed it. “The lift, have you seen it?”

“Of course.” He replied and began to walk down the Hall of Records, his black velvet robes trailing behind him.

She had to get out with this file. She had to  _ focus _ , but it was getting so hard, every corner they turned look like the same damn hall, after the fourth time they turned she looked at the man who was leading her.

“I’m going to die here, aren’t I?” She asked, the pain was clawing at her throat, it was suffocating her.

“Maybe, I am trying to see how long you can stand it, after all, your muscles are being burned from the inside, so I suppose we’ll see how far the curse goes.”

The pain was eating her alive, she clutched the file folder tighter. She had to try and stop Arthur Weasley. She nodded. “That’s fine then.”

“You’re a strange girl, Hermione Granger.” The man said next to her “I can see why everyone wants you.”

They walked for a few more minutes in silence, it was getting hard to keep her eyes open but she kept marching forward and then, the lift. “Can you get it in?” He asked, looking at her skeptically.

She couldn’t move her head, her eyes were almost closed, she shuffled forward and collapsed into a heap into the lift, curling her body around the file folder. The man in black stepped in after her. “Strange girl,  _ perfect  _ girl. I knew it from the minute your magic breathed in this world.  _ Summer _ .”

The old man got to his knees in front of her, and she tried to protect the folder, pulling her knees to her chest as her body began to give way to sleep. There was only so much pain a person could take. His gnarly fingers began to play with her curls. “Wild  _ hot _ summer magic, you burn for me, don’t you?”

It hurt. His touch hurt. She could see his magic on her eyelids, a bright orange. He kept stroking her as the lift pulled upwards. “You’ll be perfect for me, Hermione.”

Breathing was starting to hurt. She wished she was back in Corban’s bed, breathing in Antonin’s magic, begging for a few more minutes of sleep, listening to Corban say over and over again. “How are you, love?” He would coo, brushing her hair away from her face, that smile that made her insides flip-flop on his face that was usually so serious. “Are you up for some breakfast, my little love?”

It was soft and warm, and Antonin would hug her like a teddy bear in his sleep and he would mutter “princess” and she would smile.

Did she smile?

Could she?

The heat was eating her alive, it was spreading through her chest now. It was okay. She wasn’t in that lift anymore with an old man who brought upon her suffering. They were in bed together, all three of them, and she was waking up from a nap and it was almost time for brunch and they loved each other, and everything was going to be fine. The pain consumed her.


	19. The Curse of the Ninth

She woke alone, her vision was blurry, her whole body was paralyzed from pain, next to her was the file folder. She blinked a few times and remembered to breathe. It felt like her skin was made out of needles. “Help.” Her voice was a whisper. “Help,  _ please _ .”

She scanned the room for some indication of where she was, and seeing two empty firewhiskey bottles on the far end of the bedroom, a familiar quilt, a familiar  _ magic _ , she knew she was in the flat. “All you have to do is think, and your magic will do your bidding.” Corban had said, but she didn’t know it would  _ work _ .

She had to move, she had to somehow heal herself. Even crying hurt. She rolled over on her side and tried to scream, but it came out as a hissing cough.

“Fuck.” She whispered. She had to  _move_. Her body was not cooperating.

“Fuck.” She got to her feet. She had to.

“Fuck.” She got to the bath. She had to stop the pain.

“Fuck.” She turned on the bath and laid in ice water, hoping that it would numb something, fix some of the burning pain that was consuming every thought she had. 

“Fuck.” The water felt worse than the curse itself.

The bath filled and she concentrated on turning the taps off without touching them and sat in freezing water until the burning that was radiating off her felt dull, and her teeth were chattering. Corban and Antonin were missing, but the file folder was here. The change request was sticking out of her skirt pocket that was sitting by the bath tub. The London flat was unknown and heavily warded. She had somehow gotten out alive and needed to get help before the curse had any more lasting damage. Professor Snape? Too Risky. Lucius? Not unless she could give him something in return. After twenty minutes in the bath and no viable solution, Hermione dragged herself on her hands and knees into the kitchen in hopes of finding some pain potions in the refrigerated cabinet, but found only eggs and firewhiskey.

Firewhiskey was a pain potion right? Antonin seemed to think so. She reached up and focused on the act of closing her hand around a bottle. It took a few tries but the lid caught on her hand and she was able to pull it towards herself. However, opening it took much more coordination and so she sat on the kitchen floor, her body screaming in pain, tears tracking down her cheeks and dripping on her fire red body, a bottle of firewhiskey between her legs.

Some time passed like this, she might have fallen asleep, she wasn’t sure, it might have been dark the entire time and she had never noticed. Where did Antonin keep ingredients? Could she find some Mandrake root to eat and maybe lessen her pain?

It was getting harder, her muscles were starting to get stiff. She crawled across the apartment, suddenly thankful for it’s small size into Antonin’s bedroom. A lumos became a lumos maxima in her desperation to find something to manage the pain, but she didn’t know where to look.

She crawled further in and spotted something she had forgotten about. A small black clutch that she had taken to Heaven, containing a calling card  _ a prototype _ .

She used her teeth to open it, her hands were too stiff now to open much anything. Tears and saliva stained the vellum as she spat it into her hands. Antonin Dolohov’s cursive script was clearly visible on the front. The ink began to run.

And then it glowed.

Two men appeared before her, holding hands, cut up, dirty and unconscious. There was no help forthcoming. She dropped the card and crawled to them, their hands laced together. Their clothing stained in their own blood.

She leaned down to see if either of them were still breathing, and fell over on top of them both, skin on skin was hellfire. She couldn’t scream, she could only roll off of them and pray that they might have been breathing.

She had no choice, she couldn’t help, she couldn’t heal, she could barely move herself, but she had to help. She had to try something.

She crawled back into the other room and hugged the firewhiskey bottle to her chest with one arm and slowly returned to their bodies, and then promptly dropped it, glass and alcohol going everywhere, soaking her and them. She pressed her palm into a glass shard and drew blood.

Daughters of the Land could do protection rituals, she could at least protect them until someone woke up or someone found them dead in this room. In the firewhiskey she began to draw her circle, protect us, she thought, the alcohol stung her wound as she began the swirling bloom that signified her magic.

She fell into a trance that she didn’t come out of.

* * *

She woke up to Severus Snape wiping her forehead with a cold washcloth. “Miss Granger.” He said, sounding surprised “You’re awake?”

She felt like she was a drowning woman, her whole body was numb and she tried to sit up in a panic. Her arms flopped uselessly at her side. He looked more alarmed than she felt. “No, no, stay still, merlin, girl.”

“Help.” She croaked “Help!” 

“Fianna is here to help.” A voice said beside her dutifully “Oh! Mistress Hermione is awake, oh I must tell Master.”

She was at the Manor. Panic left as quickly as it came. She was safe.

“You’re not going to be moving for awhile, there’s extensive damage.” Professor Snape said, pulling the cold wash cloth off her face “Not for another day or two, the numbing potion I gave you a few hours ago should have put you out for longer.”

“Professor.” She tried to reach for him, but her hand didn’t move.

He shook his head. “Don’t move for now, I’ll be here for awhile Miss Granger.”

“How?” She said 

“If I ever found you,” He said wringing out the washcloth in a basin on the night stand “I’d return you to where you belong, and I did find you of course, after two Order prisoners disappeared, their portkey trace led me back to a flat in London.” He gave her a small smile that seemed almost unnatural “Unfortunately, the flat was completely empty when I had arrived, so there was nothing to report back to The Order, they must have escaped back to Malfoy Manor.”

She laughed at his duplicity and it turned into a cough. It was a genuine smile from her potion’s professor after all. “If Dolohov hadn’t woken up, the wards would have killed you rather than protected you. You were dying underneath them. The curse was still within you.”

“Now?”

“It’s gone.” He assured and put the wash cloth back over her eyes. “Dolohov is an excellent cursebreaker, if he’s anything.”

“Hermione?” Corban’s voice. “Did she wake?”

“Here.” Her voice was too soft to be heard so she tried to speak louder “Here.” Her voice cracked.

Corban moved the cloth and she saw that he had a scar down one side of his face, starting at his forehead and moving down to his cheek. His smile was radiant. “There’s my little love.”

“The folder? the change request?” She asked as he stroked her hair, she was starting to feel tired again. “The man?”

He looked confused “What man? Moody?”

“He-” She yawned, “He said I was summer.”

“You  _ are _ summer, little love.”

“I burn for him.”

“Are you okay?” Corban’s eyes darted to her Professor “What did he look like?”

“You’ll be perfect for me, Hermione.” She echoed his last words and closed her eyes.

“Hermione? Severus  _ do _ something.”

The last words for a while: “She has to sleep, Yaxley.”

* * *

 

More people were in her room when she woke up, Lucius was sitting next to Severus and talking in hushed tones, they were both drinking a bottle of red wine. Hermione shifted to get more comfortable and they both turned to look at her. “Awake again?”

Her thoughts were murky, everything seemed to drip through her consciousness like cold molasses.

“Honey.” She said pointing at Lucius who gave her a smile “I’m not your honey.”

“You’ll always be my honey.” He said and took another sip of wine “The pain potion doing you good? You know those moon lilies are from  _ my _ greenhouse.”

The world was slower than she remembered, she reached out from underneath the satin comforter towards Professor Snape who was currently trying to pick a vial from a rack to give her.

“Antonin.” She demanded, her words were slow too. “An-ton-nin.”

Lucius made a twirling motion with his finger while he raised the glass to his lips “Turn over.”

She shook her head “Too much.”

“Ah, well, I’m sure he’ll oblige you.” Lucius stood up and leaned over her, his hair brushing against her skin. The bed shifted as Lucius prodded something behind her. “Your presence is required, Dolohov.”

“Who invited you here anyways, you ponce?” Antonin growled behind her.

“Severus did.”

“Fuck Severus.” Antonin sat up behind her “What do you want?”

“Food.” Hermione answered, pawing at Professor Snape as he took her vitals, his hand on her wrist checking her pulse.

“Oh.” His voice went soft in response to her, affectionate even. “Fianna asked to know your favorite, but Severus said soup for now.”

She fell asleep again before dinner was served, only to wake up to Corban and Antonin sitting in bed with her and a house elf holding a tray of food. “Hullo.”

Corban seemed relieved. “Hello.”

“Food.” She reached out for the tray.

The soup tasted like heaven and she savored every spoonful, everyone watched her as she ate but after only a few bites she was full.

“The folder?”

“We have it.” Corban supplied “The man you spoke about…”

“He looked like death.” Hermione said quietly “He was just robes and bones it seemed, there was nothing to him. He lead me around that hallway for hours.”

The men got very quiet as she spoke.

“He said I burned for him. He was maybe the same age as the headmaster. He knew I was cursed. He knew how the curse worked.” She moved her spoon around lazily, trying to stay awake. “Who was it?”

Professor Snape scratched his arm and Corban seemed to know. “Perhaps you met Lewis Catchepoole, or whoever he really is, love.”

“Was there anything else?” Antonin asked quietly beside her. 

She shook her head and looked at Corban “Go ahead and see if you recognize him.”

“What?” Corban looked at her and then it dawned “Love, your thoughts are your own.”

“I trust you.” She insisted “We need to know, just be gentle?” She offered, and shrugged, suddenly feeling nervous. Could he be gentle?

Corban looked at Antonin who was sitting beside her, his arm around her shoulders. “Is it safe in your condition?” 

Severus made a thoughtful noise before finally acquiescing. “It’s her body that’s hurt, not her mind.”

Corban leaned over the tray table and tilted her chin up gently, as he often did before he kissed her, his thumb caressing her lips and then she was in the hallway again, holding the file folder. She was looking up at the man and the memory seemed to slow a bit before the lift door slammed shut. She blinked and she was curled up on the floor.

“You’ll be perfect for me, Hermione.” the true Lewis Catchepoole said, tugging on her curls, tracing his finger down her cheek.

She felt Antonin first, his warmth, and then his magic. Corban pushed some of her hair out of her face before sitting back on the bed and looking at an expectant Severus and Lucius.

It was the first time in since meeting Corban that he looked scared. “We have a problem.”

“You know who he is?” Hermione asked, eagerly.

Antonin shifted beside her, sitting up straighter and pulling her closer. “Fucked?”

Corban looked at Hermione and then up to Antonin beside her. “Fucked.”

“Don’t keep secrets.” Lucius teased. “Out with it Yaxley.”

“We have to go see our lord.” Corban said, scratching his dark mark “Now. Antonin, stay with the girl.”

“Corban.” She said, fear flaring up as he slid off the bed, his mark now fully visible. They clearly didn’t care for the dark lord until now. What could be so urgent? Were they going to sell her out? What did he see in her mind? “Please, who is it?”

He grabbed Lucius and apparated. Panic bubbled up into hysteria in the moment that no one spoke after the crack of apparition. She bit her lip.

“Miss Granger,” Professor Snape looked agitated. “I assume that you already know what all these phials are, the third phial is pain potion, and this fifth phial is if you feel any after effects of the curse, since your hands had the most exposure, you’ll feel it there first. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on the progress, but with the curse gone, rest.” He took another look at the vials before disapparating, leaving her alone with Antonin.

She was  _ not _ in the mood to rest, she was panicking. Voldemort getting involved meant  _ she _ was going to be killed. “Princess,” Antonin said beside her as the house elf took her tray off the bed. “I can hear your thoughts.”

She stilled. “I’m going to die here, aren’t I?” It was what she had said in the hallway.

He kissed her head and pulled her close to him, the lights suddenly dimmed as he slid them both further down into bed and under the covers. “Here,” He said as she turned over to see him, his eyes glittering in the candlelight. “Let’s make a promise.”

Hermione’s heart was racing. “A promise?”

Antonin rolled away from her briefly and then rolled back over holding a pin. “Hand.” He demanded.

She looked up at him and he grabbed her hand, seeing that it was already covered in bandages, he grabbed the other hand.

He pricked his own finger, and then hers. “I solemnly swear, that I, Antonin Dolohov, will protect Hermione Granger from any harm, caused by myself or others.  _ Oblinitus _ .”

His magic swirled around her like winter and then settled within her. “There.” He said “Now you know the truth.”   


“The truth?”

“That no one here is trying to kill you or turn you over to the dark lord.” Antonin gave her a smile and kissed her softly, “Yax and I will do our best to protect you, princess. No matter who it is.”

“Antonin.” She murmured sleepily, their hands laced together near her mouth. His magic thrummed through her, an arousal she couldn’t act on. “I’m scared.”

“My blood protects these wards, and my blood protects  _ you _ .” His voice was low, muffled by the blanket.

“Antonin.” She muttered again, kissing the back of his hand. “What if they come back? What if that’s not enough?”

“What a spoiled princess you are.” He kissed her forehead. “You always want more. More wards, more champagne, more kisses.”

“More kisses.” She repeated, kissing his hand again.

“Pain potion makes you agreeable.” He kissed her forehead, her nose, and then her lips “Sleep.”

She pressed his hand to her lips again, and then sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit stuck lately trying to wrap the story up (I'm very, very far ahead of this)
> 
> Might post chapters and edit them more frequently for motivation.
> 
> Or might just write a Corban short, why does no one love him as much as I do?
> 
> Enjoy!


	20. Days of Misrule

When she woke again she was a bit more clear-headed a lot less panicky. She was spooned by Corban while Antonin slept. Her hand was burning and she let go of Antonin’s, nudging him with her head.

His eyes snapped open. There was a sigh and she knew he was awake.

“Potion.” She gritted her teeth.

“Yeah,” He sat up quickly, his accent made his speech a bit slurry “Yeah I got it.”

She rolled over on her back so she could swallow the potion as Antonin reached over the two of them and plucked it from the rack. There was a clinking of glass and then he sat back down, handing her a vial. “Hurts?” He asked as she tried to grab it but couldn’t get her hand to cooperate. She couldn’t feel any of her fingers move, just  _ pain _ . “Let me.”

He tilted the vial into her mouth and she obediently swallowed. Corban shifted in his sleep and nuzzled Hermione’s shoulder. “Turn off the lights.”

“It’s the sun.” Antonin corrected, the curtains all closed and they were plunged into darkness, candles began to flicker on.

“Fianna,” Hermione whispered, trying not to wake Corban. “Fianna.”

The house elf appeared with a pop looking eager. “Breakfast?”

Hermione nodded.

The house elf disappeared and Corban sat up, his hair undone and cascading around him in waves. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked at Hermione a bit dazed before he blinked again. “My little love.” He kissed her “My brave little love.”

“You look like shit, Yax,” Antonin said beside her.

“Yeah, Lucius looks worse, so it’s fair,” Corban said untangling his hair as the house elves began to appear with breakfast, laying them on a table in the sitting area of the suite. “Are you feeling better today?” He asked Hermione.

“Will you tell me who tried to kill me in The Ministry?” She shot back dodging the question.

He slid his eyes away. “I wanted to confirm it before I caused any  _ alarm _ .” 

“And how does Lucius factor into that?” Antonin asked, pulling back the covers and trying to pick Hermione up, but she swatted him away and attempted to roll out of bed herself.

“Locator spell. He said the Dark Lord was using him for locator spells.” She stood up, her legs wobbly from disuse “To find Grindelwald. So, is that the man then? Is that the man that looks like death?”

She held on to the bed for a moment, her head swimming, Antonin picked her up anyways. “You need to eat.”

“I’m not an invalid.” She said as he sat her down in front of the food. “I need to walk by myself or else I’m going to be trapped in bed forever.”

“For now, let us take care of you.” Corban said sitting down on the other side of her “What looks good?”

“An explanation would look good, and a croissant.” She said and closed her eyes as vertigo washed over her. “And a minute. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.”

“Arthur killed Catchepoole in 91, his body turning up now is a trap,” Corban said sipping his tea and rubbing her back. “They’re trying to discard him, and the easiest way was to lead us to it. That’s what the file was about, it was a murder case that had been covered up. Dumbledore demanded the transfer at the trial.”

“A misdeed against muggles, a lifetime of service to muggles.” Antonin sneered. “It was supposed to spearhead magi-muggle relations, expanding it as a Ministry priority, and so the department was created to house Weasley.”

“Conveniently Grindelwald’s necklace was transferred there six months after the trial, and two weeks after the office was set aside,” Corban said and buttered a piece of croissant for her.

She opened her eyes and put her hands up to grab it, as usual, her fingers did not cooperate.  Corban placed it in her palm and she bit it. Her fingers were so stiff. “We have enough to connect Arthur as the impersonator. He would have had access to the body, motive, means, opportunity, and so on, but…”

“But that’s what they wanted.” She said with a mouthful of croissant. “That’s what Moody said, he outlived his usefulness.”

“So why did his body show up now?” Antonin asked. “Why drop Arthur now?”

Hermione shook her head “They have what they want. Or...they were trying to draw out what they wanted. Do you think it was a ploy to get me to turn to them? If the Ministry didn’t think that he was a wizard at some point, it would have just been a way to scare me towards The Order.”

“A good point, love.” Corban said handing her a fork “Eggs?”

“If I could hold this fork, I’d stab you.” She smiled as he picked up another pastry “Small things for now.”

“Don’t tease the girl.” Antonin chastised “So, what did Lucius’ blood afford you?”

“The truth, the truth that I already knew. Gellert Grindelwald has been out for years, and he’s been working with Dumbledore.” Corban said, running his fingers back through his hair. “Which means the two most powerful wizards of all time are working together, and they’re working together to get  _ you _ .”

“Does he know that?” Antonin asked.

“He knows they’re together, he doesn’t know about Hermione.” Corban said and picked at some eggs on his plate “Severus told me to keep it hush hush, you know, he’s slippery like that, but-”

“But?” Hermione asked.

“But you can’t stay hidden forever.” Antonin supplied. “The Dark Lord will eventually find out.”

“Well,” She decided to change the subject. She would handle the Dark Lord later. “Do we arrest Arthur for the murder and give The Order what they want? Or do we pretend like it never happened and leave Arthur Weasley a free man, out to kill and obliviate as many prostitutes as he pleases?” She reached for her teacup, closing her hands around it and concentrating her best on not dropping it. 

Antonin brought his hand underneath it and helped her hold it steady. “Arrest him? Kill the bastard.”

“He’ll flip on other Order Members, the wolf, the Auror, if I can’t take on Grindelwald, I can take on his people,” Corban said. “We’ll get the arrest warrant today, and you’ll have your murderer, love.” He kissed her temple “As for the man that cursed you-”

“Kill the bastard.” Antonin finished.

“Agreed,” Hermione said, gently tipping the teacup upwards and relishing in the heat.

* * *

She dozed lazily on Antonin for the rest of the morning and he obliged her as he read through the Prophet and conversed with Corban while they waited for the post from an owl to return.

Professor Snape returned in the afternoon, holding a missive, and a few vials. “So, you’ll arrest him after all?” He tossed the letter at Corban before sitting across from him “They’ll put up a fight.”

Corban opened up the letter. “A plea deal? Who is he going to turn on? Dumbledore? Rubbish.”

“The Order is in a frenzy.” Professor Snape added.

“Arrest them all.” Hermione mumbled “Tonks, Professor Lupin, Professor Moody. Everyone who enslaved the muggles.”

“You see, Severus, my little love is feeling particularly litigious since she’s been cursed.” Corban said summoning a house elf “Tea?”

“How are you feeling, Miss Granger?” Professor Snape asked

“Tired.” She said, sitting up, her hair falling in front of her face as the blood rushed to her head, making the world tilt to one side before righting itself.

“The pink potion is a muscle relaxer.” Professor Snape placed a few vials on her saucer next to her teacup “This will be the rest.”

“Thank you, for everything really.” She yawned. “I thought you hated me.”

“You are, up until you decide to stop attending Hogwarts, my student. The Order-” He paused here and looked at the arm where his blood binding was. “I have seen what The Dark Lord has done to Lucius, I will not let it happen to one of my students.”

Antonin grabbed the vials and a tea set was served, and tiered desserts floated above the table.

“When?” Professor Snape said, gesturing to the letter.

“Tomorrow,” Corban said. “I’ll pull that rat out of his house and drag him up the stairs of the Ministry.”   


“And he’ll have a fair trial,” Hermione added.

Antonin patted her on the head “Naive girl.”

“He will! I didn’t risk my hands for the evidence to be useless.” Hermione insisted.

“And he’ll have a trial.” Corban waved her off. “As you can see, she’s doing well enough today to argue with us, but-”

“When will I regain use of my hands?” She asked plaintively, showing her palms “I can’t hold things.”

Professor Snape looked at the vials “If you’ve been keeping your doses, in a few more days I think, the muscle relaxer is allowing the rest of the potions to repair your tissues without much interference.”

“You have to eat.” Antonin nudged her.

She picked up a tea sandwich reluctantly. It was one thing to hate the Order for what they had done to the muggle women, but it was another thing to arrest them for it. Could she tear the Weasley family apart to bring justice to the women he had “taken care of”? 

“It’s the right thing to do.” Professor Snape said after a moment.

She looked up from her tea sandwich.

“I know,” Corban said unsealing the arrest warrant.

“Does she know?” Professor Snape said gesturing to the girl between them.

“This is what she wanted.” Antonin insisted.

“I’m here you know.” She said biting into the tea sandwich finally, trying to swallow the guilt. “It’s fine. Mr. Weasley killed Lewis Catchepoole, that’s the truth. He killed those women for the Minister, that’s  _ also _ the truth.” She yawned. “It just...it’s just that the Weasleys have always been so kind to me.”

“Lewis Catchepoole...or Grindelwald I suppose,” Corban eyed Professor Snape “Has been watching you since you showed any magic. I don’t think their interest in you was genuine.”

Hermione leaned back on the couch and stared up at the wallpaper behind Professor Snape’s head. It hurt to see hidden motives in people who had helped raise you in the wizarding world.

“Don’t be a dick, Yax,” Antonin said, annoyed. “You’ve got the arrest, you’ve solved the case, don’t rub her nose in it.”

“She just-”

Professor Snape was glaring at him and everyone was silent for a few moments before she decided to speak again.

“Sometimes the right thing to do is the  _ hard _ thing to do.”

“It is.” Antonin agreed.

* * *

 

“You’re feeling up to this?” Antonin said, watching her struggle with a zipper on another two-piece skirt suit, a purple so dark it looked black. 

“I want to be there.” She said, “I want him to look at a muggle woman as he gets dragged into the Ministry.”

Antonin finally zipped up her skirt for her. “You’ll stay within the Ministry, this is not going to be an easy arrest or a clean one.”

Later, she stood at the window overlooking the statue in front of the Ministry of Magic, her arms crossed, Lucius Malfoy drinking tea at Corban’s desk and flipping through papers. “It’ll take awhile.” He drawled. “Stop standing in front of the window, people are going to get suspicious.”

“Why did they bring  _ you _ ?” She snapped, anxiety and lack of pain potion today was making her irritable. Pain potion made her dull, anxiety sharpened her wits, and today she needed to be sharp.

“I’m at the Ministry every day so it looks less suspicious than I suppose Severus or whoever else Yaxley likes.” Lucius replied, “Besides, Cissa says that you’re a delight, and I’d like to keep you alive to go to Parkinson’s tea with her.”

“What did he take you to the dark lord for?” She asked finally stepping away from the window and sitting down in one of the plush leather chairs in his office.

He showed his bandaged arm as the answer “Tracking spells, confirming what we already knew. Grindelwald isn’t in Germany, and the location spells from earlier this year were all functioning normally. Our Lord thought that perhaps my circles were performed incorrectly, after all, if Grindelwald was a free man, why wouldn’t he be tearing apart wizarding Britain at the seams?”

“Is Grindelwald old blood, like us?”

Lucius shook his head. “Not at all, like Dumbledore, they’re both immigrants. My family is also immigrants but it’s been so long that it hardly matters. The Dark Lord believed that the tracking spells weren’t working because my lineage is French. If we were at the French estate then I’d have a stronger magic, of course, the land lends you gifts.”

She studied the man across from her for a minute, wondering if she should ask her next question. “Mister Malfoy, do you hate me?”

A bark of laughter was his response “Muggles, of course, Miss Hermione Granger who somehow has blood purer than mine? Not bloody likely. Also, Lucius, not Mister Malfoy, doesn’t that make me sound so old?”

“Why muggles then?” She pressed

“Muggles dilute the blood, so many of them are immigrants, not of this land, and they marry natives and then soon enough no one will be able to call on the old magics: elemental magic, low-level magic, power.”

“It doesn’t occur to you that you’re an immigrant to these islands?”

“It does.”

“You’re an idiot, Lucius.”

“So my wife tells me.” He looked back at the window behind him briefly before returning his focus to her. “Tell me if you can feel it.”

“Feel what?” She paused and then it settled over her skin like silk, Corban was near. “Oh!”

“Old magic,” Lucius said as she rushed to the window. “Like recognizes like.”

“Corban has hot magic.” She said looking around the square for him “You have the same magic as me, not hot, more like a summer sun.”

“Yaxley’s magic is older than both of ours,” Lucius said stepping up to the window behind her. “He dislikes blood magic though.”

“Why?”

“His mother was sacrificed for it. In Avebury.” Lucius replied “During the war against Grindelwald. Dumbledore asked her to lay down her life to protect muggleborns, and she did.”

She looked up at the man behind her. Was Corban concerned that Dumbledore would use him like he used his mother before him?

“There.” He said watching two people drag a struggling Arthur Weasley up the steps to the Ministry of Magic, behind him was a crowd, all with red hair. “I see they’ve all turned up.”

Ron was there, all his siblings, a sobbing Molly Weasley brought up the rear, and then behind them Ministry reporters rushed up the stairs. She bit her lip. “Do you think they knew he was killing all those women?”

“Do you think they care?” Lucius replied as the crowd disappeared inside the bowels of the Ministry. “Come, I like watching them get dragged into the office to get booked. It’s satisfying to watch them realize just how fucked they are.”

“Sadist.” She said but stepped away from the window and followed Lucius down the hall regardless.

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Weasley’s voice was pleading “I’m sure we can make a deal. I’m very good friends with Kingsley Shacklebolt and he’d-“

The door opened with a bang and Corban strutted through it. “Sorry Weasley, you’re not going to weasel out of this one.”

Lucius groaned behind her. Hermione stifled a giggle as Mr. Weasley was tossed into it by Antonin. The chair glowed with magic and suddenly Mr. Weasley was bound by rope.

“Yeah?” Corban waggled his eyebrow at her as he sauntered into the office. “I’d practiced that one.”

“Not enough, clearly.” Antonin said sitting down behind the desk and pulling a quill out of a drawer. “You know why you’re here, Arthur?”

“Not my husband!” The door burst open and a distraught Molly Weasley stumbled in “Not my husband! Dumbledore will hear of this! The Minister will hear of this! You’ll be out a job!”

“Do you think this is some sort of public event? Podmore, shut the fucking door, get this harridan out of here.” Corban said as he walked over to Hermione, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

When there was one Weasley, there were more, and soon, four more stood in the entrance to the office. A stupid looking man who was more fat than brains was trying to shoo them out.

“Mione?” Ron’s voice cracked. “Bloody hell, it really was you...with...with death eaters!”

Bile rose up inside of her and she swallowed it. This was the right thing to do. “Ron.”  Her voice didn’t come out nearly as confident as she wanted it to.

“You _bitch_ , what lies have you been telling them about my husband?” Molly Weasley drew her wand but Corban was much quicker, as soon as it appeared she was disarmed. The wand clattered to the tile floor.

“Mr. Weasley killed muggle women, Mrs. Weasley.” Hermione replied “Justice must be carried out.”

“Killed some muggle? Who cares?” She sounded incredulous.

“Well, you see, the law cares.” Corban said shielding Hermione with his body.

“Traitor.” Ron spat, it hurt. 

Hermione tilted her chin up. “Better to be a traitor,” She replied “than the son of a killer.”

Ron lunged across the room towards her and then fell to the floor with a sickening crack. He had been stunned midair.

“Ah, well, Weasleys have never been a bright bunch.” Lucius said, sheathing his wand. “Try to attack a witness again, ladies and gentlemen, and we’ll see what Weasley money can afford to pay for at the Wizengamot.” 

“A  _ witness _ ?” Molly laughed hysterically and Hermione stepped back into Lucius, who didn’t budge “Is that the term for a whore you-”

“Molly.” Arthur cut her off.

“Arthur.” She shot back “We welcome this muggle  into our home, and she jumps at the first chance she can get to climb up the social ladder. It goes to sh-” Hermione cast a silencio and turned to Antonin and Arthur.

Her heels clicked on the tile, her jaw clenched as she stepped over Ron, poor Ron, and approached Arthur. “For every muggle woman you silenced, obliviated, and enslaved. For Lewis Catchepoole who you killed for some unknown reason, I will testify for each and every one, and I will find out Mr. Weasley, where this ends.” She bent over so her face was close to his, her nerves licking close to the surface, but she wanted him to know. “I want you to remember me, Arthur Weasley, as the muggle who ruined your life, the way you ruined so many of our lives.”

There was no way to look away from her, but Arthur Weasley did anyways. Anger and nervousness made her whole body tremble. Was he scared of her? Could anyone be scared of a girl like her? “I’ll see you in court.” Arthur finally said.

She smiled and stood up straight. “Come on Lucius, let’s go get tea.”

“Oh thank Merlin, it was starting to smell like poverty in here.” He said grimacing as he stepped over Ron’s body.

The Weasley’s parted like the red sea. Hermione didn’t look anyone in the eye, because one look is all that would take to break her. She wasn’t ready to break yet. She had so many people to protect.

* * *

She sat across from Lucius Malfoy, crying silent tears as she sipped her rose tea in a private corner of the tea room. He seemed perplexed at first, a bottle of champagne sat untouched in an ice bucket, the handkerchief he offered remained on the table, the waiters, all three of them, stood next to the illustrious Lucius Malfoy as he clamored over trying to calm a teenage girl down.

“Is there  _ anything _ I can get you?” He said exasperated “Cissa maybe? She adores you, and she is much better with  _ emotions _ .” He drank tea as if to cleanse his mouth of the last word.

“Everyone is  _ fake _ , Lucius, even you’re fake.” She said, her empty tea cup clattered to the saucer. “No one likes me here, I’m just some freak that everyone treats as a charity case, or a blood bank.”

“A...what? A bank?” Lucius refilled her tea for her quickly. “Besides, I’m not fake.” He sniffed, offended.

“You’re not here because you like me, but because Corban!” She picked up her tea cup again, trying to drink away the emptiness inside of her.

“I’m here because we’re two peas in a pod, as it were, Hermione, maybe at first I helped due to...Corban, but now it’s because I know how awful it is to just be a step in a ritual. You and I are just means to an end, that’s why everyone is so  _ fussy _ .”

“I’m not fussy!” She cried and wiped her tears away quickly, more replaced them.

“Fussy brat.” Lucius shot back and gave her an unsure smile.

She laughed. “Prissy Ponce.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand and she was suddenly clean. “Do you want any of this food or is it just decoration at this point?”

“No, I can’t eat. I have betrayed everyone I ever have known in the wizarding world, I don’t have an appetite.” She waved away the tiered tea service and then it disappeared off the table.

“Dramatics.” Lucius sighed and sipped his tea, turning to a waiter. “Fetch me the paper at least.”

She drank the rest of the tea and finally the emptiness was replaced with  _ warmth _ , she closed her eyes and relished in the relief.

She opened them again to see two aurors: Corban and Antonin, weaving through the restaurant. Warmth. Corban caught note of her puffy red eyes and quickened his pace. “Love, has Lucius been an arse?” He called across the tea room.

Lucius whipped around “Can you try  _ once _ not to make a scene?”

Corban slid into a seat beside her, and Antonin took the chair next to Lucius. “Bring some food.” Antonin demanded, a second waiter left immediately.

“He’s in a holding cell for now, he thinks that help is forthcoming, I’ll wait a few days for him to find out differently.” Corban said, sounding pleased with himself.

Hermione felt gutted and she began to drink her tea again. 

“Be a little more quick on the take, eh Yaxley?” Lucius said “The girl is devastated.”

Corban waved him off. “Nonsense, it was  _ her _ idea.”

“It doesn’t make it any less upsetting.” She said over her tea cup. 

Lucius gave Corban a look and the man next to her sipped his tea as the table was refilled with tea sandwiches and scones plate by plate as the four of them sat in tense silence. Antonin picked up a scone first and handed it to her “Eat. My mother always told me that the only way to fix sadness was food.”

She ate. She ate until she was sick, and one sickness replaced another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A regular update followed by a Christmas present.
> 
> Writing Lucius is really fun for me, god bless Narcissa for putting up with him.


	21. The Animal Within

She flopped facedown on the bed later that night, disturbing Corban who was looking over the case that they had against Arthur Weasley. “Still okay?” He asked.

“Just okay.” She said rolling over on her side to see him. 

More often lately he would leave his hair unbound, so that when he pored over case files, his hair fanned out over pillows and fell over his shoulder, giving him a softer look. He was wearing black pajama pants and a shirt that he never bothered to button. She could see some of the scars yet to heal and purple and yellow bruises just hidden by the shirt on his ribs. His scar cut down his face giving him a rougher look, but he didn’t seem bothered by it. His quill ran across the paper as he made another note on the case. She loved him.

“Corban.” She said quietly, giving him a small nervous smile. “I rather like you like this.” Could she sum up the courage to show him how much?

He looked up from his case file at her curiously. “Like what, love?”

“This.” She got up on her hands and knees and crawled up the bed towards him. “Essential Corban Yaxley.” 

She kissed him. It was a gentle kiss, a seeking kiss. 

He kissed her back and hummed. “Essential Corban Yaxley.” He repeated against her lips, his scent was intoxicating this close, whiskey and cologne and fresh laundry. “What does that mean?” He kissed her again as he put the case files nightstand. 

She was blushing. She hoped he didn’t see. Would he know how inexperienced she was at this? 

His hand came under her chin, tilting her head for better access. His next kiss was deeper. His tongue sought hers. His essence sought hers. 

She would give it to him. She sighed into his kiss and his other hand came to her waist and pulled her closer to him, her body becoming flush against his as they kissed, he rolled her over so he was on top, his hair falling down around them light filtering in through a thousand golden strands. 

“This.” Her hands trailed down his chest, the silk pajama top brushing against her forearms as she felt every scar that criss crossed his lean frame, a history of his life done in braille.

He kissed up her jawline and she felt his magic frisson over her skin as his desire became more and more apparent against her leg. Panic flared up and subsided as he stroked her hair. She let her fingers rest at the top of his silk pants, letting him kiss her, lead her, fill her with the heat that she had lost today.

The hand that was on her waist began to skirt higher, bringing her nightgown up with it until his thumb brushed on the underside of her breast, causing a bolt of desire straight between her legs. She let out a small noise of surprise and she could feel him smiling against her neck. “Hermione,” He breathed in her ear, his breath ragged with barely contained lust “Tell me if I go too far.”

She ran her hands up his back, feeling the scars that she couldn’t see, pulling him closer to her. “Go further.”

He chuckled and his hand moved higher, his thumb brushed over her nipple underneath the thin cotton nightgown. She gasped and arched her body up into his. His touches were sure, and it gave her confidence that she didn’t have. His kisses were getting longer. Her breathing was getting heavier. Her body was getting needier.

“Please.” She was rubbing her legs together to get some friction, to ease the ache between her thighs “Please.”

He sat up and shrugged off his shirt, giving her a smile before his attention was drawn to the door. She turned her head and saw Antonin leaning against the doorway, his eyes dark. His gaze moved from her to Corban. “Am I interrupting?”

Corban turned to face her “Is he?”

She shook her head, suddenly giddy with the fact that she could have what she had in Heaven again. It had been her  _ only _ want. “No, gods no.”

“It’s not fair to start without me.” Antonin said, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked to the two of them. 

Corban began to tug the nightgown up, giving her a mischievous smile as it dragged higher and higher on her body. “You’d come eventually,” Corban said.

She wasn’t sure if that was directed towards her or Antonin. A large part of her hoped it was her.

Antonin’s touches were less sure than Corban’s. Where Corban had a surety that made her confident, Antonin was nervous. She stroked his hair as he traced her curves through her gown, and eventually he kissed her, a soft, seeking kiss. She tugged on his long hair a bit and he deepened the kiss as Corban’s hands moved over her hips.

She lifted her hips and sighed as Antonin’s lips left hers. Suddenly she put her hand over his, Antonin’s nervousness had infected her. “I have a scar.”

Corban gave her a warm smile that chased her nerves away. “I think we know a thing or two about scars.” 

“It’s-” She protested

“Let me.” Corban said and pushed a little higher so that the bottom of the scar was visible in the candlelight. He leaned down and kissed the white raised flesh, his hair tickling her thighs, and then her dress was gone.

Antonin’s next touch was at her throat, at the beginning of the scar that split her in two. “I did this.” He said quietly.

She tugged on his hair, not letting her nerves eat her alive when she was getting what she wanted. “Kiss and make it better, then.”

A smile played on his lips and she sat up to kiss him. Everyone shifted with her, Corban sitting behind her, his hands running over her hips, and Antonin cupped her face, deepening the kiss. They  _ worked _ together, and she marveled at how easily Antonin and Corban knew where to touch without being clumsy.

Antonin kissed down her front, nipping at the skin on her neck as Corban’s hands kept skirting all the spots she wanted touched the most. His fingertips brushed against the side of her breasts and the teasing jolts of pleasure kept making her lean back into him, if she could just get his fingers to move a little bit further, a little closer, it was all she needed. 

Antonin’s lips moved further south, until he began to place featherlight kisses a few inches from where she wanted. “Stop teasing.” She groaned, her head back on Corban’s shoulder as the two men showered her in tastes of what was to come “Please.”

Antonin’s lips finally closed around one nipple, his tongue flicked the hard nub and her fingers tangled up in his hair. Satisfaction was replaced with the need for more, and Corban’s hand that was on her hip began to snake down the front of her body. 

“So responsive.” Corban said in her ear as his fingers slid through the small thatch of curls, his index finger brushed against her sensitive nub and she almost collapsed onto the bed, Corban’s arm came around her waist. It was too intense, it was too  _ much _ of a good thing.

Antonin switched to the other breast, his hand cupping the first one, and she was sure she was going to die between the two of them. 

“So wet.” Corban’s voice was honey.

Her only response was a moan as he circled her clit again, and then Corban slid his finger over her slit, pressing the heel of his hand into her mound as he inserted one digit inside of her. He exhaled shakily and kissed her temple. “More?”

“ _ More _ .” She almost growled.

He withdrew his hand, sliding it over her charged flesh and laid down on the bed beside her, tugging on her hand and Antonin flicked his tongue over her nipple once more before letting her go. “Straddle me.” Corban commanded and she could do nothing but obey.

It was her first time after all.

“Use me.” He said, pushing his pajama bottoms down to reveal his erection. “And we’ll go slow.” 

It was big. She had never seen a cock before, and she took a moment to touch it, her hand wrapped around the middle and Corban gave her a wicked smile as she squeezed it experimentally, it was hard and hot, and  _ longer _ than she had expected. She began to move her hand up and down, pulling down the foreskin and running her thumb over head. 

Corban hissed and his hand came to her wrist. “You’ll be the death of me, love.”

She smiled and looked back at Antonin who was watching the both of them, he kissed her gently and squeezed her rear, it was all the encouragement she needed.

Hermione straddled Corban and positioned his cock at her entrance, and suddenly fear warred with desire. 

“Your pace,” Corban reminded her gently “All you, little love.”

Antonin got to his knees beside the two of them, one hand coming around her waist and holding her steady, the other, cupped her mound, his fingers rubbing in small slow circles around her clit and she almost fell over on top of Corban.

It was slow. She was concerned it was too slow, but no one had said anything as she lowered herself onto Corban’s throbbing cock. She could feel his cock press against the membrane and then a second later tear it. It  _ hurt _ , and then the hurt was replaced by the pleasure of Antonin’s touch.

A few tense seconds and then he was fully seated inside of her. Her hips met his and the feeling of fullness ebbed at the pain, making it less and less important. Antonin kissed her as she adjusted, and then after a moment the fullness was replaced by the hunger for more, and when they broke the kiss, her eyes traveled downward on Antonin’s body to his erection that was pressing against his pants.

She moved her body experimentally, leaning down and kissing Corban whose fingers were digging into her hips, even as her hand ran over Antonin’s erection through the wool fabric. “Too many clothes,” She murmured and then she banished them all.

Moving was beginning to feel  _ much _ better than staying still, every time she moved, her clit brushed against his pelvis and wound her a little tighter. Her fingers wrapped around Antonin’s cock and as she moved, she pumped up in down the same way she had done for Corban, relishing in all the small sounds of pleasure she could get both the men to make by rolling her hips or twisting her wrist, but it was getting harder to concentrate and she knew she might have been moving too fast but she was so close and needed it so badly, and then finally, Antonin kissed her, biting her lip as her world fell apart, her hips still moving but her consciousness gone, the fingers on her hips tensing and relaxing as Corban pumped into her from below and then a final thrust deep inside of her as he spilled his seed.

If this is what sex was like, she thought as she leaned against Antonin, panting, she would never get out of bed for the rest of her life. 

“Alright?” Antonin asked and she tried to sit up straight, but instead he lifted her off of him and onto the bed.

She could feel the semen dripping down her thighs and she was so pleased with herself that she could drive him over the edge with her. She reached her hand out to the man who was panting beside her and tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him in for a kiss as Antonin kneed her legs apart.

Antonin was bigger than Corban, but he slid inside of her quickly, seating himself deep into her messy cunt. She thought that there would be some disgust at fucking her so quickly after another man, but there was nothing but  _ want _ . There was a raw soreness when he fucked her gently, but was enough to stir more arousal. She wondered how many times she could go over the edge in one night. How many more times would reality fall away?

Antonin fucked her lazily, drawing his cock out of her and sliding it back in slowly. His moans were her name, his fingers traced her curves, memorizing every inch of her in case she was just a dream.

She broke the kiss with Corban to admire the man on top of her. He had a myriad of scars across his body, a smattering of dark hair and a five o’clock shadow that seemed so distinctly Antonin, a deep scar ran across his chest and she reached up to touch it. He was lean to the point where she could see his ribs, but he was  _ fit _ . Her hand ran down his body, relishing in the way his muscles contracted when he slid all the way inside of her.

“Antonin.” She smiled.

“Princess.” He returned, his hand sliding down her body, repeating the same exploratory touches on her body, before rubbing his thumb against her clit.  _ Oh _ .

Her whole body began to wake up, her hips rising up to meet his touch. He seemed pleased with himself because his slow strokes began to speed up, her hips meeting each thrust as he bottomed out inside of her.

Corban cupped her breast, brushing over one taut nipple before pinching it. She gave a small mewl of pleasure as she realized her next orgasm would be quicker than the last. “My sweet fucking  _ angel _ .” Corban whispered in her ear, pinching her nipple a little harder. “You look so beautiful in our bed.”

“Yesss,” She hissed. “Please.”

She didn’t even know what she was begging for anymore, but they knew, everyone instinctively knew. 

“Let go, princess.” Antonin’s voice rolled over her and she moaned. “Let go.”

She didn’t even realize she was holding her breath, and then it bubbled up inside of her, it felt like a string snapped, and every tense muscle relaxed as her orgasm washed over her in waves. 

Antonin fucked her, his fingernails dug into her hips as he fucked every last wave out of her and then as soon as she was done he thrust deep inside of her, filling her up with his seed, moaning her name. She could feel his cock pumping inside of her, his heartbeat mixed with hers and she smiled.

“Heaven.” She muttered. “I’ve wanted this since Heaven.”

“Why’d we wait?” Antonin said, withdrawing from her and collapsing beside her.

“I’m in love with idiots.” She muttered curling up into Corban who welcomed her into his arms.

“Too true, love.” Corban said and kissed her on top of her head.

She was asleep before the lights went out.

* * *

Arthur Weasley looked up at her from his holding cell. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and if she didn’t have a glamor, he would see that  _ she _ hadn’t slept in a few days later. There were a lot of things to learn in the bedroom, and she had two very eager teachers.

“They’ve abandoned you, you know.” Hermione said on the other side of the bars. “They told us when we found the case.”

“I don’t bloody well  know what I’m being charged with. The case against Catchepoole was settled years ago.” Arthur snapped.

Lucius who was with her, summoned a chair and the two of them sat down and opened the file. “It’d be well and good if he was a dead muggle.” Lucius said, leaning over Hermione’s shoulder to read the case file “But it appears as if Lewis Catchepoole is a very  _ alive _ magical being, impersonation of a muggle violates a few laws, and you’re the only one who can be tied to him. It seems like all of these muggle criminal cases that a Lewis Catchepoole had were signed off by an Arthur Weasley, so I suppose covering up muggle crimes might be a few more laws.”

“Then bloody charge me with them already.” Arthur spat “If you haven’t charged me with the crimes, then I didn’t bloody well do them, and you’re holding me without cause.”

“We’re here to talk about Headmaster Dumbledore.” Hermione pressed “and the necklace he entrusted to you. If we ma-”

“I’m not talking without a solicitor, my wife said they were hiring a solicitor !” He said, cutting her off.

“We’re trying to make a deal here, Arthur, don’t you have a family to feed?” Lucius seemed annoyed. “Besides, Mrs. Weasley hasn’t been near the Ministry in days. If there is a solicitor, they haven’t been around either.”

“I’m not speaking or making  _ any _ deals without legal counsel, mark my words on that Lucius Malfoy.” Arthur before turning away from the two of them.

Lucius sighed and stood up. “Deals don’t last forever, Arthur, it’d be wise to take them before you head to court.”

“So, you do wizarding law.” Hermione said walking next to Lucius down the hallway away from the holding cell. “Are you a solicitor here?”

He nodded. “Barrister, it keeps me out of the house, which, as you know, has become very important lately. This case, at least, gives me a good excuse to miss the morning bloodletting.”

“I’m sorry.” She said, unsure of what to say.

“It does me good to help someone avoid the situation my family has found themselves in.” Lucius said “Abraxas, my father, he died during a ritual in the last war, and I’m trying to avoid that.”

“Why do you follow him then?” She asked, they stopped in front of the door to the aurory. “If he killed your father, what’s to say he won’t repeat the same with you?”

Lucius gave her a look. “Because he was killed to break blood wards set up by Dumbledore, and all I have to do is keep you alive. If you’re alive, Hermione, I’m alive.”

“For now.”

Lucius opened the door and hummed in agreement. “For now, until Dumbledore remembers Molly Weasley is a Prewett.”

“Any luck?” Corban asked, sitting at Antonin’s desk, in the chair Arthur was in a few days ago.

Lucius sighed and pulled up a chair next to the two of them, Hermione tried to do the same, but Corban pulled her onto his lap.

“Not well, I take it.” Antonin said flipping through another file.

“He keeps asking for his wife, but Molly hasn’t been back here since the arrest as far as I know.” Lucius sounded annoyed. “The man should just roll over and be done with it.”

Hermione leaned over and peeked at the case file Antonin was looking over, it was Mad Eye Moody’s record. “Trying to find something?”

“Comparing it against Catchepoole’s and seeing if I can tie them to the same place, or at least the same case.” Antonin said gesturing to the file folder with the print out of Catchepoole’s criminal record. “You said he came to your house with Moody before, so I figur-”

There was a loud bang, that made her start and the four of them turned towards the door to see Kingsley with a blonde man the size of a house stumbling in with blood running down his face.

“Right, Tonks, book ‘em for disorderly conduct.” Kingsley said, twisting the man’s arm behind his back, the man yelped and Hermione tried to move away from the scene.

There was a slam as the man crashed into the desk. “Oi!” Antonin shouted, standing up from his desk. “Think you animals could control yourself for a tick?”

Corban held Hermione on his lap as the desk slid closer to them and the man fell to the floor. “Resisting arrest, that’s another one for you Rowle.” Tonks said, picking him off the floor and putting him into a chair. She flashed a dangerous look toward Hermione.

Hermione glared back. She wasn’t going to be cowed by the metamorphmagus, she slid off Corban’s lap and smoothed down her robes. “What trumped up charge is he in on now, Shacklebolt?” Antonin asked

“I didn’t do anything!” snapped Rowle, pulling away from Kingsley who was pulling up a chair beside him.

“Miss Black, Mr. Shacklebolt.” Lucius said, standing up beside Hermione “As Mr. Rowle’s legal counsel, I must advise you that this is looking a bit like excessive use of force.” 

“You work for the Ministry, Malfoy, not your friends.” Kingsley said, his eyes resting on Hermione and not on Lucius at all.

Corban leaned over the desk and looked at the case file. “Oh, looks like he was  _ existing _ in London. Get real, Auror Black,” The case file caught on fire “Unbind him and you’ll have a job tomorrow, Shacklebolt.”

“He was robbing a museum.” Tonks said irritably.

“Were you robbing a museum, Rowle?” Yaxley asked as the case file disappeared.

The man who was bleeding with a black eye looked around before shaking his head. “No.”

He was unbound. “See? He didn’t rob the museum, I’m peaked, let’s hit up the cafeteria for lunch.”

“Cafeteria?” Hermione asked.

“I am  _ not _ .” Lucius sounded like they had asked him to eat food out of the garbage.

* * *

Hermione performed a few basic healing spells and Rowle, who was larger than Antonin as they all sat at a table in a small bistro outside the Ministry. “I’m getting better.” She assured as his black eye faded. “I’m Hermione.”

“Hello Hermione, I’m Thorfinn, sorry about the circumstances.” He offered his hand and she looked at it for a tick before taking it.

“What kind of idiot gets caught by two aurors that are about as sneaky as a bull in a china shop?” Corban said as they perused the menus.

“There was nothing anyways.” He grumbled, annoyed. “You said there would be something in the Germanic archives.” 

“Nothing?”

“Well,” He produced a long thin wooden box “There’s this.”

“Cheers, Rowle, you always knew how to get what I need,” Corban said opening the box revealing two wands inside.

“What is it?” Hermione said picking up a wand experimentally.

“This is Grindelwald’s wand.” Corban said, but his smile got wider “And  _ this _ is Dumbledore’s.”

Her eyes went wide. “The wands from the Black Forest deal?”

“Are you ready to order?” The waitress asked, holding a quill to a pad, the box shut with a snap.

After they had ordered, Hermione contemplated over the meaning of the two wands being together and a result of the deal that gave Arthur the necklace. Surely that was enough to tie Arthur to Grindelwald, but how could they figure out how to get rid of Grindelwald altogether?

“Who is she?” Rowle asked, jerking a thumb towards Hermione who was staring out the window. She was sandwiched between Antonin and Corban.

“More important than you.” Antonin replied.

“I thought I said who I was.” Hermione said turning her attention back to the conversation at hand “I’m Hermione.”

“Yeah, but  _ who _ are you to me?” Rowle said, running his finger down the condensation on his water glass.

“She’s mine.” Corban said simply “and as Dolohov said, more important than you.”

Rowle seemed to sit up straighter and Hermione laughed. “I’m just here because there was a dead man found behind my house.”

“Sorry, I thought-”

“It’s better if you didn’t.” Lucius drawled beside him as a bottle of wine was set on the table.

Rowle nudged Lucius with his shoulder. “What I was trying to say, is thank you, and I thought maybe you might have been his daugh…” He mumbled the rest of the word and then lowered his eyes.

“Yeah,” Lucius said, uncorking the wine. “It’s better if you didn’t.”

“We must look related.” Hermione said as Lucius grabbed her wine glass to fill it with a riesling. “What do you think? Lucius could be my uncle.”

“Cousin by marriage is more likely.” Lucius said, handing her glass back, she smiled.

“So, how old are you then?”

“Does it matter?” She asked airily. “I’m here.” The age difference hadn’t even occurred to her before now, she was her age and they were theirs. They certainly didn’t seem to fixate on it much, but of course, it was there.

She felt Corban grab her hand under the table and squeeze. She smiled and turned her attention back out the window to see Harry Potter staring back at her. Her eyes went wide and she looked back at the water glass. “Excuse me.” She said, squeezing Corban’s hand before standing up.

A million thoughts washed over her as she stepped outside the bistro, and she noticed that the streets were bustling with Hogwarts students. It must be time for back to school shopping.

Harry pulled his wand and she grabbed the wand tip, eying Antonin who was watching the two of them boredly through the window. “Wait.” She said quietly “You need to know the truth.”

“Not bloody likely.” Harry’s voice was barely controlled rage, he was so angry he was nearly vibrating. “You ruined the Weasley family. Ron told me everything.”

“His father was enslaving and killing muggle women, of course we had to arrest him.” Hermione snapped.   


“Oh that’s rich, and what was Mrs. Weasley doing? Cooking with their blood? Come off it Hermione, they opened their house to you, and you arrested the both of them because...because you’re power hungry, you always have been!” Harry yanked his wand away from her and fired off a quick curse.

She deflected it with a wave of her hand. “Harry, please, you need to listen to me, they’re not who you think they are. I know the truth, it-”

“Shut up!” He screamed, and people began to turn and stare, whispering about the great Harry Potter. “Shut up you traitor! Ron told me, Ron told me  _ everything _ .” 

“Ron doesn’t know  _ shit _ Harry! You need to let me explain!”

“You took his parents!” He screamed and fired off another curse and she deflected it again. “You made them orphans! No one deserves that!”

“What do you mean? Harry we only arrested Mr. Weasley!”

“Can I help you?” Corban said behind her.

She couldn’t help but relax knowing that she had back up, even though Corban’s presence would only infuriate Harry. “Death Eaters.” Harry hissed, and he shot off another curse, this one had a red jet of light.

Hermione was stunned as the crucio hit a shield charm and fizzled out. When had Harry begun to use dark curses?

Corban seemed unphased. “Harry Potter, do you know that it’s a felony to curse a Ministry official?”

There were pops of aurors flooding the area and people began to scatter. An unforgivable on a public street? What had happened to the Harry she had grown up with? He looked alarmed as the aurors surrounded him and then he disappeared into the crowd. “Harry?” She called, looking into the crowd of people that was parting as he ran away.

“Are we eating?” Lucius called from the doorway. “The wine is getting warm.”

Hermione looked up at Corban who had his brows knit together. Molly Weasley was missing. “Until they remember Molly Weasley is a Prewett.” Hermione echoed Lucius from earlier.

“Come on, let’s eat.” Corban said.

Antonin was still watching the two of them from the window, sipping his wine. He hadn't moved. “Apparently Antonin thought I had it under control.”

“Tonin could have shattered the window and fired the curse. He had a direct line of sight, I didn’t.” Corban explained opening the door for her

“That was stupid.” Antonin said as she sat down next to him.

“He’s my friend.” She said, irritated. “I had to try.”

“Not you, him.”

“Oh come off it, Dumbledore is going to make sure any charges the DMLE would try to level are gone before we finish lunch.” Lucius said and began to eat his salad. “Eat! I’m buying.”

“So, Molly Weasley is gone.” Hermione said, picking around at her salad. “Where?”

“Molly is still pure, not as pure as you or me, but the closest they can get.” Corban said beside her “They must be thinking of making a move soon.”

“A move?” She asked.

“Protecting Hogwarts, maybe, sacrificing those women, definitely.” Corban said tapping on the table as he tried to solve the mystery. He shook his head. “I can’t connect the dots no matter which way I think of it.”

“What are the dots?” Rowle asked across from them.

“I’m not sure if we even have all of those either.” Hermione said honestly.

Antonin hummed next to her. “We have the rest of the dots in a holding cell, and I have a feeling he’ll be much more willing to give us them after we tell him his wife has gone missing.”

“Sounds like our afternoon will be more fruitful than our morning.” Corban said biting into his sandwich.

Hermione looked out the window while she ate the rest of her salad, trying to find the boy she grew up with among the passerbys. Hogwarts students of all ages getting their wands and robes and books with new parents, and every time she saw a muggle family navigating the wonder of Diagon Alley, she was more resolved than ever to get to the bottom of this mystery.

“Are you going to save them all then, princess?” Antonin asked as she watched another family walk by.

“Of course,” She replied “It’d be stupid not to.”

“Greedy.” He replied.

“I recall you seem to like that.” She teased and he let out a breath of laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to all my readers :)


	22. Blood Wedding

“Mr. Weasley,” Hermione said as she stood next to Lucius in the holding cell.

The Weasley patriarch rolled over in the small cot and looked at them blearily before rolling back over. “G’away.”

“Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley has been reported missing.” Hermione tried again.

“Don’t you lot think I know?” Arthur said facing the wall “You’re not the only people in this office.”

“We can help you,” Lucius cooed softly next to her “We can make a deal.”

“I’m done for.” He said to the wall.

“Lucius helped me when I was in a bind, he can help you too.” Hermione insisted “Or just  _ me _ , if you can just talk to me, Mr. Weasley, I’ll figure a way to get Mrs. Weasley out.”

“It’s your bloody fault, girl.” Arthur rolled back over to face them “We raised you for this...this...this  _ sacrifice _ .”

She stepped back and bumped into Lucius “Anger isn’t going to help your wife, Mr. Weasley. Action is. We’re giving you a way to help her, why aren’t you taking it?” She demanded.

“If your wife is in danger, we can help, the Ministry is here to help.” Lucius purred.

“Fat chance of that, they’re everywhere you know, every level.” He waved his hand and Hermione tried not to flinch. “There’s no saving me now, they’ll kill me soon, this is the last you’re going to speak to me.”

“Then make it count, Arthur, don’t leave your children orphans to this war.” Lucius sounded harsh, and Mr. Weasley glared at him before looking at the solid concrete wall.

“Don’t bring my children into this.”

“I’m trying to protect your children, one father to another.” Lucius seemed to have found a way to get Arthur to turn, and was tugging on that string.

“I will only speak to Yaxley,” Arthur said at last and turned to her. “You were supposed to help us end this war, Hermione, not prolong it.”

“Tough,” Lucius said. “People are more than just tools.”

“I’ll go get Corban,” Hermione said exiting the cell and walking down the hallway by herself.

It hurt, a lot of things hurt, but finding out that everyone was expecting you to die was the worst yet. She was raised for the slaughter. They had been waiting for years to kill her when the time was right. It was disgusting that she was no more than blood to them.

“Everything ok?” Antonin was holding two coffee cups, presumably for himself and Corban, in the hallway.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She waved away her bad thoughts “Just Mr. Weasley being a little  _ too _ truthful.”

He handed her one of the coffee cups. “Here.” He said and gave her a reassuring smile. It was hard to get Antonin to smile. “Fuck what he says, yeah?”

“Yeah yeah.” She wrapped her hands around the mug.

Antonin tilted her chin up with one of his hands and kissed her gently. His tongue sweeping across her lips and she felt desire pool between her legs. It wasn’t fair that one touch from him would send her whole body into a tizzy lately. He broke the kiss and opened the door.

Did she look like she had been kissed? She touched her lips and Corban looked at her and gave her a sly smile. “How’d it go?”

“He wants you.” She said taking a sip of the coffee, it was bitter.

Corban gave Antonin a look and she flushed. Were there implications there that she hadn't had a chance to explore yet? “Not him.” She followed up “Mr. Weasley.”

“Ah, well, maybe next time.” Corban teased and she laughed. “Use my office, I don’t want the other aurors sniffing around you like dogs.”

He gave her a quick peck on the lips and then her coffee mug was gone and so was he. Antonin raised an eyebrow and gestured to Corban’s office. “This will take awhile, but I suppose Yax wants us here in case any of his wayward children get out of line.”

Antonin pulled her onto his lap and kissed her again, this one lazy, he broke the kiss and then kissed her nose. “Stay here for a bit while I sleep.”

“You’re always sleeping.” She replied, put out.

“Not likely, I can’t keep up with a girl half my age lately,” Antonin said, laying his head back against the leather and closing his eyes. “Greedy Princess.”

“Dour man.” She shot back grabbing a book off Corban’s desk.

It took only an hour for the words on the page to run together, and only a half hour of listening to Antonin’s steady breathing for her to lay her head on his shoulder, and only fifteen minutes after that to fall asleep.

A kiss woke her and she blinked to see Corban staring down at the two of them, the sun had dipped beneath the buildings, giving the office an orange glow. She yawned and sat up straighter, opening her arms to him. “Hullo, love.” He hugged her and pulled her off Antonin’s lap. “Enjoy your nap?”

“Antonin is too comfortable.” She sighed, picking up the book that she had dropped on his lap. “And he’s  _ always _ sleeping.”

“He has trouble sleeping at the manor since the attack, and someone is very  _ needy _ .” He kissed the top of her head “We got some information, not all, due to blood oaths and secret kept locations, but more than before.”

She stepped back to Antonin, kissing him awake in much the same way Corban had kissed her, but Antonin caught her arm and deepened the kiss. His free hand came up to her hair and pulled her closer. Antonin kissed her every time like it would be the last, each one tinged with a bit of desperation. She made a small noise of pleasure and he inhaled sharply, the hand on her arm suddenly moving to disrobe her.

She didn’t protest and felt Corban tug on her robes until they fell to the ground. She was left in a short blue dress that stopped mid-thigh. “In my office?” Corban asked behind her, his hand trailing down her spine.

Antonin broke the kiss and pulled her closer. “Is that a no?”

Her dress began to pull higher and she knew her black panties were exposed. “Never a no,” Corban said, a finger hooking on the black silk and pulling it down around her legs. “Love, you want to bend over the desk to make this easier?”

She turned around, wondering if Hermione six weeks ago would be as wanton and brazen as Hermione fueled by Antonin’s kisses. She stood up and shrugged off her dress, it pooled around her heels and she stepped out of the dress and her panties at once. A frisson of desire ran through her as she saw the way Corban feasted on her. She was a goddess to them, and she  _ felt _ like one. She bent over Corban’s desk, pushing away case files and ink bottles, her head and arms hanging off the other side, and she turned around to see Antonin admiring her.

“Is that a yes?” She asked.

“Princess, I could stare at you like this all night,” Antonin said, and reached out and traced one finger up her thigh and down her slit.

She would be embarrassed at how wet she was for him already but the moan Antonin let out when his finger slid inside of her was all the confidence she needed. He began to thrust one finger inside of her, her legs spreading a little wider to allow him access, and then two. She let her head drop down as she gasped his name.

Corban sat down in one of the leather chairs in front of her, a spell washing over the room, his dark eyes glittering in the setting sun as he watched her get fingered on his desk. She reached one hand out to him and he smiled.

“Tell me what you want.” He demanded that low Scottish drawl that made her burn from the inside out. “I’ll give it to you.”

“You. The both of you.” The last word was a squeak as Antonin brushed his thumb over her swollen clit. “Please Antonin!”

Corban offered his hand out to her and she grabbed it, trying to pull him out of his chair, but failing. He got up after a tick and placed her hand on his erection. “My name isn’t Antonin.”

“Corban.” She whined. “Please.”

“Oh love,” He said moving her hand a little higher to where the button for his pants was “You know I love it when you say please.”

Antonin’s hands were on her hip and she could feel him settling between her thighs. His thumb was massaging her clit, watching her buck her hips against the desk as she tried to get him to hit the right spot again. He was teasing her. He was waiting for her to undress Corban.

Her fingers fumbled as fast as they could, the button’s on his pants were hard to deal with, and her fingers were slippery, and every time she got a bit of concentration back, Antonin would take it away from her again by rubbing against the right spot inside of her to make all her coherent thoughts turn into small noises of pleasure.

Corban finally helped, and pulled his cock out for her. She closed one hand around the base of him and pulled him closer to her, his cock pressing against her lips. This was her favorite position, it allowed her to please them both at once and not one at a time. Corban was startled the first time she asked to taste him, but now it was her go to. She kissed the head of his cock, before taking him into her mouth, enjoying the strangled noise Corban made overtop of her as she swirled her tongue around his cock the way he taught her. She was a good student.

Antonin entered her from behind in one swift movement that made her still. He had a thick cock that was hard to get used to, and the desperation in his kisses translated to sex. His strokes were long and slow, bottoming out completely inside of her. Their hips met and she would roll them to try and take more of him inside of her.

After a few strokes, the two men had found a rhythm and she rocked back and forth between them. Maybe she was spoilt, but if there was sex any other way, she didn’t want to have much of it. She wanted them both, she  _ needed _ them both, but best of all, she had them both. Her fingers curled around the edge of the desk, giving her leverage and preventing her hips from hitting the other edge. 

Corban thrust in and out of her mouth slowly, letting Antonin set the pace as her body rocked back and forth, and she could have died a happy woman at that minute, between two men who took what they needed from her as she got what she wanted. She could feel desire coiling around her lower abdomen, a familiar need looking for release. Corban’s hand was on her head, alternating between grabbing her curls and stopping her before he came prematurely, and petting her hair in apology. She wanted him though, she wanted to taste his desire, so every time he grabbed her hair to stop her, she tried to please him more.

“Perfect fucking princess.” Antonin’s strokes became shallower, his fingers digging into her sides as his breathless moans and pants became more insistent, but he wouldn’t come until she did, they both always waited on her. His hand came down underneath her and found her clit, rubbing furiously until she was squirming on the desk, knocking over ink pots and case files.

“Careful, love, you’re making a mess.” Corban held her still, his hand resting between her shoulder blades as her body begged for release. She couldn’t take much more stimulation, she was going to break apart, but still Antonin pressed harder against her sensitive nub until the tension that was curling inside of her broke and her orgasm wracked through her, a cry of pleasure was muffled by Corban’s cock, that was thrusting into her mouth and she felt Antonin fuck her harder.

Her hipbones began to hit the wooden desk but she didn’t care, because she could feel Corban tensing up in front of her, his fingers fisted into her hair as he gasped her name. She sucked harder, a low moan as she felt his cock throb against her tongue, and then her mouth was full of his seed. She drank it greedily as he thrust deep into her mouth, spilling himself inside of her.

Antonin’s thrusts were deep and shallow, she could feel him bending over her, his cock swelling inside of her. He was so close, it was almost overstimulation, she rolled her hips against him and he came with a cry inside of her, his cock throbbing as he filled her again. Then she heard it, voices outside the door.

Corban seemed to have heard it too because he stepped back away from her and crouched down to give her a kiss and then put his finger up against her mouth. Post-coital tiredness was replaced with adrenaline. 

Antonin helped her back up and  _ evanesco _ ’d her so she was clean, holding her against his body. “You did a silencing charm?” She asked.

“Of course,” Corban said walking towards the door and pressing his ear to the wood. “It’s that damned junior Auror. Nymphadora.”

Hermione was leaning her head against Antonin’s chest and trying to regain herself. Sex always left her a bit out of sorts, emotions roiled around her and Antonin hugged her while Corban grabbed her clothes. “Stay here with Antonin, love.” He kissed her quickly, handing her clothes to her and she looked at the door.

“The both of you go, going alone is dangerous.” She said and sat down in Corban’s chair. “Or let me get dressed and we’ll all go.”

A moment later, a sex tousled Hermione was back in the dress and smoothing down her hair as the three of them opened up the door. It was dark and any voices they had heard were gone.

She looked around the office, checking to see if anything was out of sorts. “Maybe they were just wrapping up a case?” 

“No,” Corban said quietly, straightening his robes, his eyes widened. “No. No. No.”

He disappeared out of the room in a hurry, there was a bang, and Hermione and Antonin followed. She ran down the hallway towards the holding cell and Corban was facing away from it, cursing himself out.

She saw it then, the corpse of Arthur Weasley, twisted unnaturally, his knees up against the bars as he splayed on the ground. She backed away, her hands covering her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes and she bumped into Antonin.

“Fuck, fuck!” Corban hit the wall “They came for him. He was right, there was  _ nothing _ I could have done. He was bloody well right. Get Lucius, get  _ someone _ , fuck.”

Nymphadora Black, that junior auror, had killed him in his cell. She would remember that thought until she met Tonks again and got revenge. Another life she couldn’t protect, guilt gnawed at her from the inside out. Dead.

Pleasure was short lived. She was beginning to wonder how much longer it would take for them to get to her. No one was safe from The Order, not even their own.

* * *

Corban was tracing her curves on top of the coverlet, it was past midnight, and Antonin was dealing with the fallout from Arthur Weasley’s death, insisting that Corban go home with her.

“When I was younger, just before I entered Hogwarts, my mother was killed.” Corban murmured softly. “The Yaxley clan has been Scottish since druids were revered by muggles. So, a long time.” He laughed at this. 

Hermione turned her head to look at the man who was running his finger down her spine slowly, his hair was covering his scar and he was watching his hand as he spoke. “My mother was one of those types, you know, they care about things that never affect them, like you. Dumbledore came to our house before I even knew who he was, and asked for her help. Muggleborns needed help, they needed protection from Grindelwald, he was going to slaughter them all.” His hand stopped “So she went, he only told her that he needed some of her blood, it would save so many lives and it took so little. Of course, some blood wasn’t enough, as you know, for a large protection ritual you need a lot of blood.”

“Hogwarts?” She asked quietly.

He shook his head and then looked away from her for a moment. His next words were strained. “Too obvious, innit? Avebury, where druidic magic is the strongest, where it’d be easy to hide so many children, and she died there in Avebury because she’s got Scottish magic, but Scottish magic doesn’t really fucking work in Avebury, it works here, where she lived.” He was upset, his accent was thicker than usual, but she listened.

He began to play with her hair now, tugging on her curls a bit and enjoying the way they sprung back up. “My father was never the same, and how could he be? I joined the Dark Lord in school because he hated Dumbledore because I hated Dumbledore, but I would have as quickly joined a dog if he hated ‘im. Every year he’d try to act as a surrogate, pretending he was sorry he had killed me mum, but...he knew, he knew the way they all knew this time ‘round. A protection ritual requires sacrifice.”

His eyes met hers and she had never had someone look at her with such passion before. “I knew it from the minute I made the wand oath to you that I wasn’t going to let Dumbledore use another the same way he used my family. Your blood is  _ yours _ . To do with as you’d like.”

She smiled and leaned up to kiss him. “Antonin made a blood oath with me you know.” She said holding up her finger “When you left after we found out about Grindelwald.”

“Antonin  _ adores _ blood magic,” Corban said kissing the finger she held out. "He's a bad influence on you."

“Did Antonin join the Dark Lord-”

“Because of me, yeah.” Corban laid down beside her and pulled the covers over the two of them. Candlelight filtered underneath the white covers, illuminating the two of them.

“I won’t be used,” Hermione said firmly. “I’m more than just blood.”

They were together in bed for a long time, saying nothing, realizing that tomorrow things would change rapidly again for the two of them. She had almost drifted off to sleep holding his hand in hers.

“Hermione?”

“Yeah?” She asked, not opening her eyes.

“Like Antonin...can _we_ do a blood oath?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, truly looked at the man who had followed her all over Britain in an attempt to solve a murder and save her life and saw vulnerability and a bit of jealousy. Heat suffused inside of her knowing she could make such a powerful man jealous of something so inconsequential. She rolled over in much the same way Antonin had done a few nights ago, finding a quill on the bedside table she pricked her index finger with the nib, blood welling up, and she did the same to Corban.

He grabbed her hand a pressed their fingers together. “I Corban Yaxley, solemnly swear that I will protect and love Hermione Granger in this life, and the next.”

“I, Hermione Granger.” There was a lump in her throat as she realized the gravity of the situation “Solemnly swear that I will protect and love Corban Yaxley in this life and the next.”

His eyes widened and he grabbed her hand in a panic “Stay calm love. Please.”

Heat began at her hands that were so  _ hot _ that she thought the curse had come back. her breath caught inside of her and her body tensed but Corban kept hushing her and as it began to spread throughout her blood it licked at her temples and she wondered if she was sweating. She closed her eyes and the magic settled deep inside of her, the heat began to fade and she opened her eyes, letting out the breath she had been holding.

“Am I cursed?”

He laughed and kissed her, pushing some sweaty curls off of her face. “Silly, naive girl, you sealed the oath.”

“Of course I sealed the oath.” She said, put out.

“It means you gained my blood and I gained yours, not just made a promise. It’s a hot type of magic, hotter than yours, it’s a little startling, innit?”

She hit him and sat up on the bed, pushing the covers off of her and looked down at her hands. Nothing different. They were blood now. She panicked. “Does this mean we’re related?”

Corban grabbed her and pulled her to him, laughing. “Not in the slightest, it means you’re family, it means you can use the family magics and protections, and it means you have access to all my money.”

“So, married?”

“Hm, I suppose married by magic.” He said thoughtfully.

“All your vaults then?” She asked as they settled back down into the bed.

“All of them, spend them all, my little love, I could care less as long as you’re happy,” Corban said pulling her against him.

At dawn Antonin slid into bed in his uniform, Hermione opened her eyes to see him spelling all the curtains shut. “Hey.” She said tiredly, reaching out to him. “Come here.”

“I am coming there.” He groused.

She wiggled out of Corban’s arms and grabbed the quill on the night stand and then his hand and pricked his index finger before doing herself. “I, Hermione Granger, solemnly swear to love and protect Antonin Dolohov.”

He looked stunned and tried to pull away but she held on and felt his magic begin to freeze her from the inside out, ice in her veins that made her skin prickle and her teeth chatter and then it was gone as quickly as it came. “Done.” She said and pulled him into bed.

“Strange, princess.” He crawled into bed dead tired “Only you would take something as serious as a blood binding and make it into some quickie before a nap.”

She slept much better with both of them there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I initially had written Arthur Weasley to be much angrier, but my beta told me that it was very out of character. I thought that everyone does strange things when they're backed into a corner.
> 
> More smut is on the way, I like to reward patience!
> 
> More familiar faces coming as well as we get to the bottom of this mystery (and plenty more Lucius)


	23. The Village That Rose from the Dead

Their lovemaking that morning was languid and slow, something about the binding from the night before had made everything less desperate, less necessary and more comforting. This was her life now, and this is how it was always meant to be. It fit so neatly that she could hardly believe that it was meant to be anything else. 

Severus and Lucius turned up in the foyer at lunchtime and the three of them sat down in the garden to eat. “You got  _ something _ from him right?” Lucius sounded exasperated.

Hermione looked up at her Professor “They’ve got Mrs. Weasley?”

“They’re getting desperate.” Professor Snape said stirring his tea “I don’t know why, exactly.”

“Are we getting close to something?” Corban pressed “The Dark Lord isn’t making a move, but should we?”

“Well,” Lucius said as lunch was served by the elves. “What do we know?”

“Catchepoole was keeping the Minister in line before Arthur got there, it was an easy takeover. They exploited that which was already exploited. Arthur told me it was to keep Ten Downing together because it was falling apart due to corruption and scandal. He was helping them keep their government together, and it didn’t matter if he was now the blackmailer.” Corban said shaking his head. “Arthur was their new go-to guy for everything, and the Muggle Ministry relied on him completely. Heaven was an afterthought after they figured out that the girls the Minister were sleeping with were usually disgraced royals, old blood that no one would miss, that no one was using. It was a hotel, and then...it was a whorehouse.”

“What about the  _ other _ whorehouse?” Antonin asked.

“He didn’t know about the Pickwick witches, I can only assume someone else was taking a bit off the top, robbing corpses from the Order, which means everyone the Pickwick Witches had were dead and forgotten, that makes the body count just shy of three hundred.” Corban tapped the table a few times and looked at Hermione “Anyone like that?”

Only one name came to mind. “Mundungus Fletcher.” She seethed. “Disgusting.”

“Then we pick him up today,” Corban said and gave her a smile. “Eat your lunch love, and we’ll get some revenge in the afternoon.

“School starts next week, Miss Granger, still on the fence?” Professor Snape asked, picking around his fish.

“Would it be helpful for me to be back there?” She asked the table.

“Perhaps to my sanity, not much else.” Professor Snape groused “I doubt Yaxley is going to let you out of his sight for more than ten minutes at a time.”

“I don’t tell her what to do, Severus.” Corban replied pointing a fork at him “I just go where I’m needed, and if I can have Dumbledore in a holding cell before school resumes, all the better for me.”

She sighed and fidgeted in her chair a moment before speaking. “It seems like I’m walking into a trap, doesn’t it? The minute I step foot in Hogwarts, what’s to say I’m not stunned and bled out like a stuck pig?” 

“Right.” Antonin said, blanching at the thought “You’re not going back there, pick any school, we’ll fund it, or we’ll get you a tutor or something.”

“So, you’re bound now,” Lucius said airily. “Your magic has changed.” He looked at Hermione “No wonder you’re so protective of her suddenly.”

“I doubt it’s been sudden, Lucius.” Professor Snape said looking at her critically “Do you need a contraceptive potion?”  
  
She stood up from the table abruptly. “Let’s go do that arrest then, yeah?”

“You’ve embarrassed the girl.” Lucius chastised.

The first time Hermione heard her Professor laugh was as she was rushing inside the Manor to avoid any conversations about her sexual history.

* * *

 

Mundungus Fletcher was one of those guys who screamed as he was arrested, his face pressed up against the bricks outside an apothecary that looked like it would sooner poison you than take your money. “This is brutality! This is brutality!” He kept shouting and Corban watched Antonin bind him in the alleyway.

“I don’t see any brutality, do you love?”

She pointedly looked at the passer-bys in Knockturn Alley. “Hm?”

“She doesn’t see any brutality either, strange how that works out, eh Mundungus?” Corban said and Antonin tossed him on the ground in the alleyway, now bound with rope. “We’re not going to arrest you, so stop squirming around like some fish.”

“Whaddya want?” He spat.

“A few moments, Dung, and a few answers,” Hermione asked leaning over him, the hem of her dress brushing against his nose. “Like where’d you get all that hair to send to the Pickwick Witches? And all that blood?”

“Garbage! They were all trash.” He said squirming against the pavement, he managed to roll over on his face and then stopped, realizing it’s useless “Dead muggles that were o’ no use.”

“Who killed the girls?” Corban said rolling him back over with his foot “Give us a name Dung and we’ll let you go and forget about the fraud you were committing a few minutes ago with that Ginger Root.”

“Dumbledore’s men, in Wiltshire. Ow! Leave off!” Mundungus cried as Corban stopped stepping on his thigh.

“Feeling up to travel, Fletcher?” Antonin asked hauling him up “I think you are.”

“I am! I am! Stop it Dolohov!” He shouted and Hermione shook her head. “Precious girl, clever girl, please tell him that we’re in good together. You’re Potter’s little girlfri-ow!”

Antonin was twisting his arm up behind his back, she was sure it was going to be dislocated at this rate. 

“We’re going on a little trip, Mundungus, and you’re going to be our guide.” Corban said, “So give us a location then, yeah?”

“Right, Right, Shrewton, Shrewton! Let go!”

“Good lad,” Corban said, grabbing Hermione and they all apparated.

Shrewton was a town that was not a town, just a cluster of building before the countryside, and the four of them walked down the sidewalks a little after two, the boiling summer sun making her uncomfortable in her long dress that Corban insisted was a day dress.

Mundungus took a turn on a country road that was mostly made out of mud and Hermione enjoyed the fresh air, even if she didn’t enjoy the heat. Occasionally a breeze would bend over the wheat fields on either side of her, disturbing the silence with their hissing. Corban held her hand as they walked, she squeezed it and looked up at him.

“You look stunning today, love.” He said admiring her and then a cooling charm fell over her and all the heat of the afternoon fell away. “A true heiress.”

She looked at him shrewdly “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” A smile broke out on his face “Nothing important.”

“Out with it.” She said trying to pull away from him.

“A wedding, a ceremony or  _ something _ . I want to the whole world to see my pretty young bride.”

“Antonin, you want a ceremony too?” She asked the man in front of them who was carrying Mundungus Fletcher by a set of ropes tied loosely around his wrists.

“If it makes you happy, it’ll put Yax over the moon, he always was a bit flashy.”

Mundungus turned and began to walk into the field, and the three of them followed. “I’ll plan it, you just show up.” Corban insisted “Narcissa and you can just shop for whatever you’d like and we’ll hire a planner-”

“After I get my NEWTs back.” She laughed at his enthusiasm “Then we can talk.”

“Right.” Mundungus said “Here.”

The field was a field. It stretched on endlessly. She could feel something strange and reached out until her hand hit something solid. Hermione touched the wards and felt the buzz of magic.

Light began to start at her feet and she realized Antonin was dismantling the wards, and a dome began to glow white in the middle of the field. “We could hold it under the tree at the manor, or if you want som-”

“Corban, we are  _ not _ going to plan the wedding in some field in Wiltshire while we’re trying to find corpses.” Hermione chastised.

The illusion of the wheat field was beginning to get foggy and distorted like she was looking at the field through a soap bubble, and then it popped, and the wards fell. The first thing she was assaulted with was the smell. She gagged and turned away, pulling her robes over her face.

“This is the place,” Mundungus said gesturing to a pit in the middle of the wheat field.

Before the four of them was a pit, stacked with decaying bodies, skeletons mixed with rotting corpses, all women, their fine dresses dirty and bloodied. Corban cast a bubblehead charm on her first and then on himself, the smell was gone, but the sickness inside of her was not.

“Show me.” Corban seethed, grabbing Mundungus Fletcher and beginning to sort through his mind.

“There’s so...so many,” Hermione said, stepping towards the pit. “This is genocide. Why are they dead?” She looked at Antonin who seemed just as shocked as she was. “Why did he kill them? Why not test their blood and obliviate them!”

“This...this place was an  _ accident _ ,” Corban said as Mundungus Fletcher crumpled to the ground in a heap. “They kept banishing corpses and they started to all land here, so they dug a pit and warded it later. Fuck but there are so many. What were they for?”

“Protection,” Antonin said, pointing to a relatively fresh corpse who had her throat slit open and her hands had the same deep cuts. “Did you get anything?”

Corban leaned down close to Mundungus and pulled the memory. “Enough. Call the Prophet first, and then the DMLE. I want it in the paper before it’s swept under the rug.”

* * *

 

She was watching them catalog each body, matching it to photos they had stolen from the Pickwick witches, Lucius Malfoy, in all his airs, standing with Hermione and Antonin as they oversaw the investigation. “And you said Albus Dumbledore did this?” An auror asked Lucius as he put dragonhide gloves on.”All this?”

“Over the course of five years, yes.” Lucius said, “Catalog all the bodies, if you can make a match to a photo please attach the photo to the corpse with a sticking charm so we can notify the muggle families.”  
“Blimey.” The man looked stunned and soldiered off to assist his coworkers in pulling bodies out of the pit.

“The sad thing is,” Lucius said, annoyed “is all we have is Fletcher's word that Dumbledore was behind this. Mundungus followed Mad-Eye Moody here to help dig this pit, no magic of course because then the Ministry would know. There's no way to pin any of these bodies on Dumbledore.”

“Surely if Mad-Eye was ordered-”

“We’ll get an arrest warrant for Moody.” Lucius said “Dumbledore seems fond of abandoning his followers, hopefully Mad Eye will be no different. He’s not some random wizard, he’s an ex-auror, and sorting through his mind will be a trial. We might have to use Severus.”

“This isn’t some random junkyard, you would have to  _ know _ this place to banish things to it. A magical signature has to be somewhere.” Hermione pressed. “It just seems,” Here she sighed “Nothing is  _ big _ enough, there’s no payoff for these women. There’s nothing but death and easy outs. It was easy to take advantage of all these women, it was easy to build a hotel for them to get trapped inside, and it was easy to kill them.”

“All these women were used in blood sacrifice, you’re not curious as to why?” Antonin said watching another dead body get disapparated to the morgue.

“Of course I am, but Albus Dumbledore getting arrested because of Mundungus Fletcher? A longshot.”

Antonin shrugged “Sometimes you trust the wrong people with the wrong information, and sometimes you drop the wrong people, and sometimes those wrong people make it right.”

She hummed and watched another few bodies disappear. “I'd like that.”

“I figured you would.” He replied.

* * *

 

Watching Mad-Eye Moody get dragged up the stairs of the Ministry gave Hermione some kind of sick pleasure, as he kicked and shouted obscenities at the arresting aurors. She was standing with Corban, Antonin, and Lucius near the entryway.

“Whore!” He spat as he was dragged past Hermione “Filthy mudblood whore.”

“Intimidating a witness? Make my day Moody.” Lucius called, watching him pass by. “Can you assault an auror as well?”

“Fucking try me Malfoy!” Moody spat.

Corban gave her a wan smile and followed Moody inside behind the arresting aurors.

Once Mad-Eye was out of sight, it left her empty. “I feel dirty.” She said, “I feel hollow.”

Antonin kissed her on the temple and held her close. “A good bath, and a good dinner.”

The scent of the air had changed, like walking into a flower shop. Another person’s magic. She put up a shield charm as a kneejerk reaction. The curse glowed against the shield and faded. She looked into the crowd of people gathered to see who had fired the curse.

“Ah, getting better,” Antonin said as Lucius withdrew his wand. “These things just take practice, princess.”

“ _ Traitor _ !” She knew that voice. She had grown up with that voice. Ron Weasley pulled away from his brothers and stumbled to the steps, almost falling over Ministry Wizards. “She killed my Dad!”

Hermione held her reply. She had so many things to say. So many wrongs to right, but instead it was Lucius who came to her defense.

“Care to make that slander, Mr. Weasley?” He called, walking down the stairs, wand in hand. “Care to curse her again?”

Ron pointed his wand towards Hermione and fired off another curse, a flashbulb went off and the curse was deflected.

“He tried to curse an unarmed witch!” Someone called out from the crowd, her eyes scanned the crowd and she saw Thorfinn Rowle with his hands cupped around his mouth. He gave her a smile.

A murmur went through the people who had gathered and Rita Skeeter stepped to the front. “What steps is the Ministry going to take, with muggle women being killed, and Muggle-born witches are being cursed in public?”

“Mrs. Skeeter-”  
  
“It’s Miss.”

“Miss Skeeter, we take the security of Muggle-borns very seriously, and we are working to get to the bottom of these murders that have cruelly been exacted by people like ex-Auror Alastor, and Arthur Weasley.” Lucius’ voice was rehearsed and Hermione looked up at Antonin nervously.

“Are you telling me that Ministry corruption is to blame for this string of Muggle murders done by wizards?” Rita Skeeter’s quick quotes quill was writing so fast the feather was a blur.

“I’m not saying it’s not.” Lucius winked.

“Oi! My dad didn’t kill anybody!” Ron said suddenly realizing he was the center of attention. “ _ She _ killed him!”

“I was with Miss Granger the night of Arthur Weasley’s murder and she’s much aggrieved by his death, even though their family seems to have an anti-Muggle-born sentiment.” Lucius turned back to her. “Is there anything you wish to say, my dear?”

She realized that she was now in the middle of a publicity stunt that Lucius Malfoy had set up so smoothly that she was furious. “Just…” She chewed over the words, trying to somehow spin this into a net positive “We, as a community, need to focus on unity among us all, in these dark times, you never know when you’ll need a friend, and that friend could be your neighbor or could have come from the most unexpected place.”

There, now they knew that she wasn’t betraying The Order. Hopefully, they could see the message in her speech. She was still their friend, she was still trying to help, but she had to clean house first.

“Eloquent as always, Miss Granger.” Lucius gave her a smile and then turned back to the crowd of reporters and bystanders. “Are there any other questions?”

“What can we do to  _ prevent _ such a tragedy from occurring again?” Rita Skeeter asked over the crowd.

“We are  _ your _ humble servants if something at the Ministry is going awry, the voting booth is where you can file your complaints!”

Hermione rolled her eyes and Antonin nudged her, bending down to murmur in her ear. “Lucius is only nice for one reason, and that reason is that somehow you will benefit  _ him _ .”

“Should I be exploited like this?” She asked.

“Is there any choice? Smile for the camera princess, you’re front and center now.”

Lucius turned back to her and extended a hand and she stepped down the stairs and took it. “Miss Granger! Miss Granger! Look this way!”

“Lucius,” She muttered through her smile “You’re a royal pain in the arse.”

He laughed, his smile was dazzling, the cameras went off. “So my wife tells me.”

Ron Weasley, stunned by his best friend, was soon engulfed by reporters trying to get a good photo of Lucius Malfoy, and the unarmed muggle-born witch that looked so damn photogenic beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter!
> 
> I'm sorry for the short hiatus, it happened for three reasons.
> 
> 1\. I was writing for the Amortentia Project (they are releasing a Lucius themed fanfic zine in February).
> 
> 2\. I am in the process of moving from the united states to Asia.
> 
> 3\. I was very concerned that I had written myself into a corner with all of these different threads in the mystery and needed to see if I had a way out. Luckily, a few days ago, I finally found the thread that would lead to the ending (I'm very far beyond this point but wanted to make sure all my facts lined up) and so I'm rushing towards it full steam ahead. This is the biggest mystery I've ever written and it's so hard making all these threads come back together to a neat ending!
> 
> I also kind of wanted to write a full sex scene in this chapter but ended up deciding against it to get it posted. I actually really don't like writing them, but know they're necessary for character development!
> 
> I'll be going back to regular posting now, thanks everyone for being patient :)


	24. Sins of Commission

It was not her and Lucius that made the paper, but her and Antonin deflecting Ron’s curse. Corban was reading over the article, looking for any mention of his big arrest but instead it was all about her. She could see the headline upside down from her seat at the table. 

A CALL FOR UNITY, A PLEA FOR CHANGE.

“What were you doing when Lucius decided to use her as a publicity stunt?” Corban said showing Antonin the paper.

Antonin looked up from his plate and pointed at the photo of himself with a fork. “Right there.” 

“You did nothing?”

“What did you think was gonna happen Yax, the love interest of a Ministry Official, friends with Narcissa Malfoy? You’re lucky we’ve gone this long without her showing up in the society pages.” Antonin said annoyed.

“I was up a creek, Ron tried to curse me, he might as well have made the statement himself.” Hermione sighed and dug into her breakfast. “I realized what Lucius was doing too late, there was nothing I could have changed, I just tried to make it into a positive thing, and left it at that.”

“Nothing about my arrest!” He tossed the paper on the table “Rubbish.”

“Give it up, Yax, she’s much better looking than you, of course she’d make the front page.” Antonin said giving the photo of them another look before going back to his breakfast. After a bite Antonin picked up the paper and began to rip out the photo of them together.

She tried to hide her smile behind her teacup. Antonin was a sucker for sentimentality. Fianna popped into the foyer “A Mister Rowle is here.”

She sighed and got up from the table. “I’m tired of people today already.”

“Come on, love, let’s go relax under the tree and read for a bit, anyone who needs us can fuck off.” Corban said grabbing her hand. “Fianna send him away.”

They were halfway across the garden when she heard someone shouting Corban’s name. Corban squeezed her hand and stopped. “Go with Antonin, love, I’ll deal with this.”

Antonin yawned and continued walking towards the oak tree by the lake and she followed, turning to watch Corban, his blond hair picking up with the wind as he stormed over the green grass to meet up with Thorfinn Rowle.

Thorfinn saw her and waved. She waved back and turned back towards Antonin who was already settling in the shade. Would the rest of her life end up being afternoons like this? She settled down between Antonin’s legs and leaned back against his chest, opening a book on defensive spells that was required reading for all sixth years at Hogwarts.

He kissed the top of her head. “Wake me if you need me.” He said settling back against the tree.

She tried to read about defensive spells, but watching Corban argue with Thorfinn at the other end of the garden. Corban was scratching his dark mark, the way he often did when people spoke about the Dark Lord for too long. “Is Thorfinn a Death Eater?”

Antonin hummed in the affirmative.

“He’s making Corban upset, I wonder what he’s here for?” She asked, craning her neck to see if Antonin was watching, but he wasn’t, his face was up towards the tree canopy.

“Before we met,” He began quietly “The first time, this was how things usually would go. We’re not really in the  _ in _ group, Yax and I mostly kept to ourselves in the first war, and now in this war, it’s much the same. Being a Death Eater is boring, meetings, plotting, and things like this, where we’re called to do some favor.”

“Like how Lucius asks for favors?”

“Exactly the same, no one would want to be a Death Eater if it was exhaustive, it’s just a thing here or there, just a small lie, like the one Lucius said yesterday to give you an alibi, or the way Thorfinn stirred the crowd to give you sympathy.” Antonin said. “Thorfinn is an errand boy or hired muscle, today he’s running an errand for the Dark Lord, and that’ll be it for the rest of the month, and the errand is probably like-” Here he changed his voice to be low and monotone “A man by the name of so and so will be arrested today, help him make his way out of the Ministry after a few hours.”

“What about killing teenagers, and orgies and-”

He chuckled “When I was in the Department of Mysteries, it wasn’t to go kill children, I happen to work there, and so does Lucius, and we just had to go to an office downstairs and fetch something, and then that stupid auror started firing off curses, and  _ you _ were there and you, by Merlin princess you were a little spitfire firing off spells, I didn’t even see you, you were all curses and flashes of light and then you were down.”

“Did you regret it?” She asked.

“Of course I did, Hermione.” He sounded upset “You fell right before me, Merlin I was just trying to get some stupid prophecy and everyone knows they’re  _ shit _ and I didn’t want to be there and  _ you _ were there right in front of a curse I meant for some shithead auror who thinks they’re playing good versus evil and using schoolkids as cannon fodder.”

She shut the book she was reading and grabbed his hand with both of hers, massaging his palm with her thumbs. “Antonin.”

“Yeah, I’ve killed people, I’ve killed  _ plenty _ but it’s all been people who signed up for this war the same way I’ve done, not kids being groomed to become soldiers for a war that they don’t remember starting.” He fidgeted behind her and she turned to face him. “How could I hurt  _ you _ of all people, Hermione? I keep trying to make it up to you, but how can I?”

She sat back on her haunches and looked at him. “Ice cream.”

He opened his eyes and stared at her like she had grown a second head. “What?”

“I will forgive you of everything, if you come with me and get ice cream.” She said “Fair?”

His eyes went to the scar on her chest and then met hers again. “Fair.” He agreed, and gave her an unsure smile. “Let’s get you ice cream.”

As they walked through the garden and met up with Corban she gestured for the two of them to follow her. “Come on, we’re getting some ice cream from the kitchens.”

“Miss Hermione.” Thorfinn said, scratching his blonde hair and giving her an unsure smile “Good to see you again.”

“Thorfinn.” She nodded. “It appears as if Yaxley Manor has become King’s Cross lately.” She said airily as they all walked up towards the house.

The house elves were a bit startled when she began to root around the kitchen for ice cream, and when she found the pint that had somehow been transferred from the flat to the cupboards here, her eyes lit up. “What do you want, Thorfinn?”

“I’m just here on an errand today, I’ll be out of you hair in a bit.” He said as the house elves fussed over her.

She looked at the bulky man who seemed nervous in her kitchen. “No, what do you want to eat?”

“Oh! Whatever is fine.”

She finally relented and let the house elves scoop the ice cream as the four of them sat around a small breakfast nook overlooking the lake. When the dishes finally were set down, simple creamy plain vanilla that was already starting to melt, she looked at Antonin who was sitting across from her.

“This is it.” She said gesturing to the bowl. “For everything, you’re forgiven.”

“Forgiven? In the dog house? What’d you do?” Thorfinn teased digging into his bowl of ice cream.

“I tried to kill her.” Antonin said as she ate ice cream “But I think that’s behind us now.”

“Oh.” He studied Hermione for a moment before bowing his head and eating his ice cream in silence.

“I have an errand for the Dark Lord.” Corban began slowly.

She tried to hide her reaction to this by looking out the window, she realized her reflection was in the glass too late. It was easy to forget that they were in service to the Dark Lord. It was easy to forget she was a traitor, everything with Corban and Antonin was so easy.

“Just a few forms, with Lucius, it shouldn’t take long. Nothing messy.” He insisted.

She turned away from the window and looked at him seriously. “It’s not my business what you get up to Corban.”

Thorfinn made a choking noise next to Antonin “Whipped already?”

The three of them turned towards him and Thorfinn suddenly was very interested in his plate. 

* * *

 

Antonin brought her along that afternoon, when he knew Professor Snape and Lucius would be doing the interrogation on Moody. He was loathe to leave her home alone in fears that Catchepoole would somehow break in and steal her from the garden. She followed the three men down to the interrogation room.

“It could  _ be _ the case that he’s built up an immunity to Veritaserum.” Professor Snape said to Lucius who was flipping through a case file. “The potion doesn’t make his mind easier to read, it just makes his mouth cooperate better.”

“So, what if that’s the case?” Lucius asked. “We need an answer today for the Wizengamot for Dumbledore’s warrant, we can’t wait for him to crack in that cell.”

“You’ll have what you want one way or another, Lucius.” Professor Snape turned back to the two of them. “They don’t call me the closer for no reason.”

“No one calls you the closer.” Lucius replied.

“Well if they did-”

“I rather like it.” Hermione piped in.

When her professor smiled it was an unnatural, like he had only practiced such a thing in the mirror. He turned back around. “There's your answer Lucius .” He said, and opened the door into the interrogation room, followed by Antonin, leaving her and Lucius out in the hall.

“Come on, there’s a way we can watch from in the next room.” Lucius said opening a door a few feet down the hall.

She followed him inside and saw that there were plenty of chairs facing the wall despite only the two of them. Lucius moved a few of them and then gestured to a seat before taking one himself.

She touched the wall and it rippled, then it was gone and it looked like the seating area was just part of interrogation room. “Warding, genius isn’t it? To them it looks like a wall, but I suppose Moody knows better.”

She could only see Antonin’s back, Moody looked jittery, he kept glancing at the door they just came in and then back at Professor Snape who kept turning the vial over in his hand.

“Mad-eye, a bit different when you’re on the other end of the table.” Antonin said tossing a case file at him. “Are you going to tell me why you rolled over and took the blame for two hundred or so muggles?”

“Fucking death eater filth.” Mad eye spat, but his eyes travelled to the door once again.

Hermione sat down next to Lucius who was looking over Moody’s file again humming to himself. “He might take the fall, doesn’t look like it though, does it?”

“What’s he so nervous about? He’s not worried about Professor Snape, he’s worried about that door.” Hermione found herself looking over at it too.

“So, Moody, why?” Antonin asked, tapping the table as Corban did when he was trying to solve a puzzle.

Mad-Eye Moody’s magical eye swirled in it’s socket and he jumped when Professor Snape crossed his legs. With his good eye he stared beyond the wall and at her “Protection.”

Professor Snape slammed his hand on the table and the bang made her jump, but more importantly it made Moody look towards him and then he was enthralled as the Professor sorted through his mind.

Moody’s hands gripped the table as it became unbearable, but Antonin got up and held him in place. Hermione looked away as her ex-professor began to shake and spasm as his mind was sorted through like a deck of cards. Would he recover from this? Did anyone recover from such an invasion of privacy?

There was a  _ bang _ as Moody’s head hit the metal table and he slumped over unconscious. Professor Snape turned over the vial of veritaserum in his hand for a moment. “So, Dumbledore hasn’t been working on this project at all.”

“What?” Antonin asked, and cursed.

“The sacrifices.” Professor Snape said, the glass vial hit the metal table, and then suddenly he kicked Moody’s body out of the chair and onto the ground “All those women were sacrificed to protect muggleborn families.”

“From what?” Antonin asked “The Dark Lord?”

He shook his head “From Dumbledore.”

“That’s shite. He’s had muggleborns in his school for years, he could have killed them all when they stepped foot on Hogwarts grounds.” Antonin said flipping through Moody’s case file trying to find something he missed.

“In the memories it was important that Dumbledore never found out. That’s why blood magic instead of wards, low level magic,  _ undetectable  _ magic.” Professor Snape finally got up, snatching the vial off the table. "There was more, but I couldn't get to it, not without killing him."

Hermione got up, there was something missing from his memories, just like every other Order member. She opened the door to the interrogation room and leaned down over the unconscious body and pushed up his right sleeve. Two white lines across his forearm. She looked up at Professor Snape. “This is your oath?”

Professor Snape looked at his arm briefly before back at her. It was confirmation enough. 

Hermione sighed, exasperated “This doesn’t confirm anything more than we already know then, Dumbledore is in league with Catchepoole....Grindelwald...whoever. Was it just Professor Moody? Who else participated in the sacrifices? What houses were protected?”

Professor Snape leaned over and touched his wand tip to Moody’s temple, and began to extract memories. “The  _ boy’s club _ as they like to put it here: Shacklebolt, Tonks, Lupin, him, and Sirius at some point, before he was gone.”

“Is it in the memories?” Antonin asked as Professor Snape continued to extract the memories and put them in a vial. 

“Professor Lupin...ran the brothel, Heaven, and Tonks sussed out the sacrifices, but Kingsley?” Hermione looked down at the unconscious auror before her “What did he do?”

Antonin shrugged. “So, Lucius, is it enough?”

Lucius was leaning against the doorway, a smile playing at his lips, “I’ve gotten more with less.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Chinese New Year everyone!


	25. Habeas Corpus

When the rest of the group had been arrested, she was sitting in Corban’s office sipping tea with Lucius Malfoy and the door was open. Corban was flipping through some paperwork and scratching things down. “So they were colluding?” Corban said, sighing as he turned another piece of parchment over “To protect muggleborns?”

“That’s what the memory serves. I don’t know if Moody is fit to stand trial. Apparently Severus broke a wand oath that was blocking off some memories.” Lucius poured himself more tea on the floating tea tray, followed by gesturing for her cup. “Who knows if he’s going to remember who he is, let alone what he’s done.”

“From who? Dumbledore?” Corban tossed another paper aside.

“It was imperative that Dumbledore didn’t know, so Dumbledore, or someone Dumbledore is in contact with.” Lucius picked up a parchment that Corban had tossed aside and inspected it “The only thing you can be sure of at a Ministry job, Hermione, is paperwork.”

Hermione stirred some cream into her tea. “I think it was not Dumbledore in particular, but perhaps Catchepoole, or Grindelwald, or whatever. They were friends, right?” 

“Right, love.” Corban nodded as he wrote something else down “I thought the same.”

“Who is David Moor?” Lucius asked looking over a sheet of parchment.

“Your new Minister of Magic. So keep it in mind over the next few months while you fund the campaign.” Corban said and signed another paper before looking up at her.

“You have no  _ right _ !” Tonks was screaming from the other room as she was bound “I am an Auror! I’ve been on this force longer than you!”

Hermione got up and stood in the doorway, watching Tonks’ hair change from a demure pink to a fiery red as she struggled to not be arrested by some man who looked like he hadn’t seen exercise in the last twenty years. “You! You did this to me!” She screamed at Hermione who crossed her arms. “You betrayed your own kind!” 

Hermione looked her dead in the eye, and for all the bodies she found in that pit, one word came out. “Murderer.” It wasn’t enough, but it  _ felt _ like something. To finally catch the person who had enslaved and killed every muggle prostitute they could find with British blood, it felt like some petty revenge to watch her get hauled away.

“You’ll pay for this Hermione Granger, you’ll see!” Tonks screamed as she was dragged from the room. “You can’t change your blood!”

There was a  _ bang _ of magic and Tonks’ shouting and cursing could be heard down the hall as she was sent to holding where Arthur Weasley had died a few days prior.

“Was that your revenge?” Corban asked behind her.

She turned and realized he was  _ right _ behind her, and looked up to see his smile. “Yeah, I think that’s the extent of it.”

Corban kissed her on the crown of her head. “My innocent little love.”

She blushed, listening to Tonks screaming down the hall about the injustice. Music to her ears.

* * *

Before she left, she walked among her old allies, the people she had all met while trying to save herself and the other muggle women, two to one cell and three to another, Mad Eye Moody propped up against the wall, his head resting on his shoulder as he stared blankly at another wall. Was he braindead? What had Professor Snape done?

A weak heat, a small flame of magic came over her and she wondered if she was getting better at detecting where Corban was in the Ministry. Instead, a well groomed man was standing next to her, his hands clasped in front of him as he surveyed the prisoners. “Two hundred and seventy women.” He said, enunciating each word. “Every page of tomorrow’s Prophet will be filled with their names, and we will hold a memorial for them.”

It seemed like everyone in the cells knew exactly who this man was because they all scrambled away from the bars, back into the cots on the far wall.

“Even then,” Hermione said “It cannot bring back the dead.”

“Too true.” The man next to her hummed. “David Moor.” He extended his hand.

She looked at him and gave a nervous smile and extender her own “Hermione Granger.”

“Your blood is old, but your family name isn’t.” He said, shaking her hand, looking her over.

“A strange way of greeting me, Mr. Moor.”

“David.”

“David.” She repeated. “You’re having Corban fill out your paperwork for candidacy, you must be a good friend of his.” She wondered if he caught on to her fishing for information.

“I’ve known Corban for a long time.” He said “Are you free this evening for dinner?”

“Well,” She said looking at the Order Members who were watching the two of them with fear. Was she really so repulsive? “I suppose we could ask Corban and Antonin. I know Lucius always likes this French place down the street but I’m so sick of it.”

The two of them walked together down the hallway. “So, do you work here? You seem important enough to be dragged to dinner with Lucius often.”

“I’m not that important in the grand scheme of things, Mr. Moo-David.” Hermione said, fixing her robes a bit, trying to ignore the guilt at imprisoning people who she thought to be her friends. “I’m just trying to get to the bottom of things I suppose.”

When they moved towards Corban’s office, both him and Lucius got up so quickly that Lucius knocked over the sugar bowl. “My-”   


“I’d like to thank the both of you for your hard work, and Miss Granger here is looking peaked, so I’d like to take her for dinner.”

Corban looked from the man beside her, and then to her and something was very unsettling about his glance. She bit her lip and smiled. She realized everyone in the room was looking at her and tried to think of a reasonable excuse for her nerves. “Now, Lucius, I know you might be cross with me, but I don’t want French.”

David laughed next to her, it was a rich and warm sound, but for some reason she was little at ease. “How about some more pedestrian fare, the Leaky Cauldron?” David suggested.

“Right,” Corban said and extended his hand out to her, she took it. “Let’s wait for Antonin then, love, and we’ll head out to the Leaky Cauldron.”

Corban offered her his seat and she took it. He smoothed her hair down and kissed her and she could  _ feel _ his anxiety in his touch. “Mr. Moor,” She decided the best way to get through this was to be kind. “Are you very much into law or politics? Usually one of those leads to becoming the Minister.”

“Politics, law has never really been my thing. What about you, Miss Granger, are you very much into anything?”

She thought on this, trying to come up with the correct answer, and instead settling on the true answer. “I’m not quite sure, I am very good at reading, and getting into trouble. I suppose I should decide on something to do since I’m not going back to Hogwarts this year.”

“Ah, you seem a little old to be a student.” David said and sat down across from her. “Did you graduate my dear?”

“Graduated into a better understanding of old men with suspect motives.” She groused, flipping through paperwork detailing his background, exalting his virtues, and finally, announcing his candidacy.

David laughed again. “Oh, Corban, I don’t know why you didn’t bring her around sooner, she’s delightful.”

Her eyes flicked up from the page. “I haven’t had much time to meet Corban’s friends, we’ve been busy.”

“Making blood oaths?” He asked.

She smiled “Breaking them.”

“Oh, my dear girl, we  _ are _ going to get along.”

Antonin came in a few moments later, and his reaction mirrored Corban’s: panic. She continued her idle small talk of something she had read in a dueling book about the nature of defensive spells, which David seemed enraptured by, but she supposed in the same way that she was prattling on about the nature of magic to keep him amused, he was pretending to be interested. 

“Dinner then?” David asked, standing up and smoothing down his robes.

“Where?” Antonin asked, his eyes darting to Hermione.

“The Leaky Cauldron.” David insisted.

 

David Moor was everything a politician should be handsome and smooth, practiced and easy. It made her decidedly  _ uneasy _ , his magic was old but it was weak, and she ate her hamburger while everyone else waited on the two of them. They were audiences to her interactions with him, and it was starting to get to her. Corban and Antonin weren’t their usual selves, but rigid and proper. Lucius didn’t have that easy devil-may-care attitude that annoyed her, but instead focused completely on the plate.

“Nineteen?” David asked when she was playing with her chips “Ah to be that young again, what are you going to do about school? You said you were only starting your sixth year?”

She had in fact  _ never _ said that, but she shook her head. “Merlin knows, after this summer everything has turned around. I guess you never really know about people. I suppose I could take my NEWTs, but I don’t nearly feel prepared for them.”

“Corban, get the girl a tutor, get the girl the whole staff of Hogwarts in her study if she wants, I’ll foot the bill.” He waved it off as if it was nothing. “She’s perhaps the most promising young lady I’ve ever met, brightest witch of her age and all that. I want to feed that flame.”

Lucius looked a bit unsettled beside him at the notion and she realized that it’d be Lucius paying for the bill. She was running out of conversation topics, and every so often she’d feel him press at her mind if they locked eyes for too long. So she feigned a yawn and took another sip of her riesling.

“Oh, Hermione, you’ve not been getting much sleep lately.” Corban said quickly “And you’re still recovering from the curse.”

“You’ve been cursed, my girl?” David asked and looked her over again, his eyes rested on the scar that was just visible over the collar of her shirt.

“A few times,” She made a conscious effort to not look at Antonin “A burning curse, by Catchepoole in the Ministry. I don’t know what it was.”

“It was a fire ward.” Antonin said quietly next to her. “Yaxley is right, you  _ should _ be recovering, but with the break ins we’ve been too concerned to leave you home alone.”   


“Has Severus been by?” He asked Corban. “Has he tended to her?”

“Yes, of course.” Corban responded quickly.

“I’ll send him over tonight.” David said and reached across the table and took her hand that was playing with a chip. “I don’t let any of my people suffer, you understand that right, Hermione?”

She looked up at David Moor and feigned a pretty smile before looking down at their hands. “Of course, David.”

“Get some rest, Hermione, I’ll come calling on you later this week.” David squeezed her hand and she could feel his magic buzzing through her. A powerful wizard with old magic? She could think of only a few.

Corban helped her out of her chair and she gave Lucius a grateful smile as the three of them exited to Diagon Alley. She looked up at Corban.

“That was the Dark Lord.” She said as they walked three across down the cobblestone streets, the sun setting earlier than usual today, leaving them with long shadows.

“It was.” Corban said simply.

“He’s slippery, in that way.” She said.

“He is.” Corban replied.

“What do we do now?” She asked as the turned a corner into an alleyway behind Flourish and Blotts.

“We play along, for now, and we get out, for later.” Antonin said with some finality, taking her into his arms and disapparating. 

The walk up to Yaxley Manor was quiet, Antonin finally spoke. “It’s not a good thing, Yax, that he’s taken a shine to her.”

“I’m too caught up in it now, ain’t I?” Corban cursed under his breath before continuing “I thought if he had me he’d leave her alone, if it’s a matter of blood-”

“You know it’s not blood, you  _ know _ it’s not blood.” Hermione said looking up Corban “It’s about symbolism, isn’t that why he picks Lucius over you for rituals? The Malfoy’s are a figurehead, all pureblood families fall into line. Why will he pick me? Hermione Granger is a figurehead, all mudblood families will fall into line.”

“She’s right.” Antonin chided.

Corban raced ahead of the two of them and turned back to face them. “Don’t you fucking think that I know that? That the only girl who’s ever given two shits about us since our own mothers is now going to be used as some  _ pawn _ in a revenge scheme I started thirty years ago?” He was furious, but his eyes betrayed him: he was scared.

“Corban,” Hermione soothed. “Antonin don’t be a dick. We’re all worried.”

“I can’t protect you, Hermione, I can’t protect you and merlin knows I’ve fucking tried to be good to you. I could buy you all of Diagon Alley but money doesn’t mean  _ shit _ when I’m not even doing the most basic fucking thing.” Corban turned around and stormed off from the two of them.

It hurt. It hurt most to know that a man she found infallible was struggling as much as she was. “Corban!”

Antonin grabbed her hand. “Let him go, princess.”

“He’s not alone in this, Antonin, we’re here.” She insisted trying to pull herself free of him but failing, instead Antonin drew her closer.

“He knows that, and when he’s needs us, we’ll be here.”

Antonin was right.

It hurt.

When Corban slid into their bed at half past two in the morning, he smelled like firewhiskey and sadness. She woke up briefly to see him taking off his boots at the edge of the bed.

“Corban.” She murmured and he turned around and looked at her, nestled up against Antonin, buried in expensive bedding.

“I don’t want you to become Lucius, I didn’t find you just to have you bled dry by some megalomaniac.” He said quietly, laying down beside her and cupping her face. “Hermione.”

She smiled and put her hand over his. “We’ll find a way,  _ together _ .” She stressed the last word.

It's just that, every way that they turned lately, seemed to send he deeper and deeper into Hell.


	26. Let us Prey

The Dark Lord, or David Moor, came to visit her on the day she was supposed to return to Hogwarts with Severus and Lucius. She was already in a melancholy mood, and she supposed there could be worse things going on than entertaining the Dark Lord in Corban’s study, but he brought a few books that felt strange and Corban gave her one of those looks that said it was best to thank him and toss them in the bin. She decided to play stupid, and treat him as David Moor, and talk more about boring things that concerned her, which currently, was the woes of not going back to school

“Hogwarts was a home to me for a great many years,” He said wistfully, refilling his own tea cup and then hers “Ruined for exactly the same reason: Dumbledore.”

“I feel like there’s something missing though,” She said, pouring cream into her tea “Does he hate muggleborns? Why did he kill all those muggle women? Why does he allow muggleborns in Hogwarts? I keep mulling over all these things but can’t come up with an answer.”

“Perhaps an accomplice?” David mused across from her.

“My thinking exactly.” Hermione said, finally sipping her tea “But who? Who would be powerful enough?”

“Catchepoole perhaps?” He asked “The man that cursed you.”

“I’m starting to think you know something I do not.” She said looking at the man across from her briefly before returning her gaze to her tea. She did not look him in the eye. She did not know of any other way of defending herself from a legilimens.

“Ah, caught.” He laughed and leaned back in his chair. “Yes, I suppose I  _ do _ know something, but what will you give me in return, Hermione?”

She put a petit four on his saucer and smiled coyly. “Payment offered.”

“Accepted.” He said, taking the cookie off the plate. “I think this Catchepoole might be Gellert Grindelwald.” 

“Oh?” She asked, looking over at Corban who was pretending to be surprised. “He’s dead though, isn’t he?”

There was no response for a minute, and she wondered if she was going to die for looking away from him.

“You’re a terrible liar.” David said at last.

“I am.” She admitted, caught, but trying to cover up her gaffe “I already knew Catchepoole was Grindelwald, I have met Grindelwald and he’s tried to kill me. I do  _ not _ know what Dumbledore and Grindelwald have to do with one another, or why they killed all those women.”

“Tried to kill you?” David seemed taken aback. “And you live?”   


She sipped her tea and looked up at him. “So it seems.”

For the first time, he really did smile, and it seemed genuine. “A powerful witch, a  _ powerful witch. _  You know who I am, don’t you?”

“I’ve felt your magic since the Ministry.” She said, setting her cup down on its saucer. “I know.”

“Yet you still have tea with me? Offer me cookies? Don’t cower?” He held up the petit four she offered him. “Despite your blood status, you think the Dark Lord wants to hear about how you miss Hogwarts?”

She nodded.

He laughed and everyone in the room shied away from him except for her. “I like you very much Hermione Granger. You are a very brave witch.”

She gave him a smile “A welcome trait amongst Slytherins.”

“Tell me more about what Grindelwald tried to do. Tell me more about how you lived even when he wanted you to die.” David said, biting into the petit four “And I shall give you anything you wish for, tutors, more books, and more conversation with the most powerful wizard alive.”

She had her doubts on that, but began with when she discovered the Catchepoole connection in the Ministry of Magic, and when she had last seen him in the lift as she was dying from the curse. “So not a simple fire ward,” He said, his eyes averting for a moment to look at Antonin beside her. “A curse.”

“It ate me alive, but not fast enough.” She said as Fianna began to clear the table in the study between the two of them.

“You’ve recovered.” He said and took one of her hands and flipped it over so he could study the palm.

She hated the way his touch felt. It was a murky type of magic, not hot but not cold either, like lukewarm bathwater with a touch of something else, something  _ darker _ . She let him trace the lines on her palm for a moment before he let go. “Professor Snape and Antonin are geniuses at healing, and Corban is a genius at everything else.” She supplied.

“Good, good.” The Dark Lord said and gave her another smile that made her stomach tie itself up in knots. She thought she was going to vomit up tea. “Miss Granger, we will be seeing much of each other in the coming months. You mean a great deal to me, the bloodbound bride to two of my most loyal.”

And with that the Dark Lord disapparated, leaving her with all of his death eaters. “Ok?” Antonin asked finally.

She was crying, and she laughed as she wiped tears away from her face. “Fuck.” There was no other word that came to mind, her mind was blank as she realized she just had tea with the Dark Lord. That she was being  _ kind _ to the Dark Lord who just three months ago wanted her dead. That, right now, the Dark Lord was plotting to overthrow the Ministry and use her as a posterchild. She didn’t know anything else she  _ could _ do.

“Indeed, Miss Granger, and I suppose since we’re both fucked, you can call me Severus now.” Professor Snape said, crossing his arms and looking at her with a newfound appreciation.

She laughed, her nerves radiating off of her. “It’s Hermione.”

When Corban grabbed her hand she realized she was shaking. She was too caught up in it now, wasn’t she? His kiss was sweet and sad, he littered her face with small kisses to soak up all the tears. She had promised to protect them, didn’t she?

* * *

The first tutor that came at the Dark Lord’s behest was about Antonin’s age, perhaps a bit older. He came while they were relaxing in the library, Hermione half asleep in Corban’s lap, reading the paper as he did, his hand idly playing with her hair. Antonin was reading a book that the Dark Lord had brought over, claiming it was the only book worth reading, and a fire was popping to keep away the autumn chill.

“A Master LeStrange is here.”  
  
“I heard a mudblood was here.” He sneered. “And needed re-educat-oh.”

She didn’t move, Corban shut the paper and she looked up at the man who looked as gaunt as Antonin when she had first met him.

“Rodolphus.” Antonin said boredly, “Continue with what you were saying.”

“I was told by our lord to re-educate Hermione Granger, a known mudblood.” He seemed nervous all of a sudden.

“That’s me.” She said, standing and offering a hand which Rodolphus LeStrange took hesitantly. “Take a seat Mr. LeStrange, we’re just enjoying our morning before the trial.” She gestured to an empty seat on the other side of Corban.

Rodolphus collapsed in a chair and rubbed his face with his hands. “So, he wasn’t looking for intimidation or torture.”

“No, I don’t believe so.” She leaned over and poured him a cup of tea. “But you’re welcome to stay with us for a bit.”

“Bella...my wife said that it was _code_ that the Dark Lord wanted me to teach dark arts to you, I really do apologize Miss Granger.”  
  
“It’s Hermione.” She said “Sugar or cream?”

Rodolphus Lestrange was much like Lucius in that he was looking for any reason to get out of the house. He spoke of idle problems, leaky pipes, a boggart that was stubbornly hiding in the basement that he thought was just his wife playing around for awhile, and how he was jealous of Corban’s greenhouse when his wasn’t nearly as well tended. It was the most she had heard Antonin talk to anyone outside of herself or Corban, so she assumed that they were good friends.

“I suppose he’s done with all that blood purity rot then.” Rodolphus said finally, looking at the girl who was reading the paper next to Corban.

She folded the top down to look at Rodolphus better. “I doubt it.”

“Jaded already?” Rodolphus asked raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve been around the block.” She smiled and went back to the paper, reading over the details of Mad-Eye Moody’s trial that was to start today.

She had a pang of regret as she read over the trial details, sensationalised by Rita Skeeter and her purple prose. She knew for a fact that after Severus broke the wand oath that was blocking parts of his memories that he wasn’t fit to stand trial. “Bread and circuses.” She huffed.

“Don’t get me started.” Corban said next to her “This trial is a farce, Lucius would get the same results questioning a stray dog.”

“No one is really there for the trial anyways.” Antonin said. “They’re there to see Lucius and to see Mad-Eye get ripped apart.”

She shook her head. “When should we be at the Ministry to see this theater? Would you like to come with us, Mister LeStrange?”

“Oh!” He seemed surprised that he was invited “I just threatened to torture you not an hour ago. I didn’t think we-”

“You’d be  _ amazed _ at how many people have tried to torture me.” She said and folded the paper, tossing it on the table, and giving Corban a brief kiss. “I’ll go get dressed.”

* * *

Hermione hated crowds, the Ministry of Magic, and the fact that so many people were here to watch a disabled man be used as a figurehead for all the corruption in the Ministry today. Antonin and Corban were on either side of her, keeping her from being bumped into as the sea of people swept into the Ministry of Magic. Lucius had called for a public trial after The Prophet containing the names of all the women slain was published, all the muggles that had been killed in a reckless abuse of power.

“Hermione!” It was Narcissa, the crowd parted for her. “I see you wore the purple set. We match  _ beautifully _ .” She said gesturing to the same outfit in a forest green.

“Oh, yes, in your letter you said it was important and Cor-”

“Oh no matter, I wish I could have gotten here earlier so we weren’t among the  _ people _ .” She sneered at a family who was passing by, and they hurried up to pass her. “Lucius has gotten us a box with that man David, a public trial,” She waved it off “Lucius is just peacocking.”

“He likes that.” Hermione said, smiling, a flashbulb went off and she was stunned.

“Miss Granger, Mrs. Malfoy, please pose for the Prophet.”

“Fuck off with that camera before I smash it, Peters.” Corban said, standing in front of the two of them. The photographer recoiled.

“Come on then.” Narcissa gave her a dazzling smile. 

She realized in this smile that she was one of them. She was clothed in the finest, surrounded by the finest men, loved and revered by the old blood of this country. Narcissa squeezed her hand in a warmth and acceptance she had never known at Hogwarts and  _ tugged _ . Their flurried flight of fabrics that cost more than a Ministry Employee’s salary at the time of the trial was the cover of the society pages the next day. She was laughing in the photo and Narcissa was looking back at her doing much the same. At the bottom of the photo was Corban and Antonin, watching them, and Rodolphus who was reaching out for the two women. It would be the most talked about part of the trial. The two beautiful women of the aristocracy captured mid flight at the ministry.

The box seats were high above the trial room, a dark room with only one light on the floor before the Wizengamot. The murmur of the crowd was quiet from where they sat, the five of them filtered into the box. Narcissa laughed and told her to get used to the animals at The Prophet because they would never  _ ever _ leave her alone as they all seated themselves.

Hermione settled between Antonin and Corban and stared at her hands on her lap. “I don’t feel right about this.” She muttered mostly to herself. “Isn’t this wrong?” She looked up at Corban who was to her left.

“This is what you wanted, Hermione.” David’s voice made her whole body go rigid “This is  _ justice _ .”

“This is not justice. This is theater.” She said turning around to see David Moor sitting behind her in a chair, his legs crossed in fine robes that she realized matched her and Narcissa, the fairywing fabric glittered in the low light, needing no illumination at all to shine.

David Moor gave her one of those smiles that curdled her like milk. “What  _ is _ justice?”

“Don’t give me that, David,” She said turning back around, fury bubbling up inside of her. “If you really wanted justice you would have Kingsley or Tonks stand trial, Professor Moody is cheap.”

His laugh seemed to quiet the crowd. “Oh I  _ do _ love her, Corban. It’s been so long since someone has just been so  _ honest _ around me.”

It was not his laugh, but Lucius Malfoy’s presence that had quieted the crowd, his hair was tied back. Mad-eye Moody, a vegetable since the interrogation a few weeks ago, was floated to the stand, when he was settled in the seat he slumped over, his head knocking into the wall. The Ministry employee who was taking care of him nudged him back up into sitting. His head lulled back in the stand and Hermione finally got up. This was no trial, this was nonsense.

Antonin grabbed her wrist, looking up at her “It’s just beginning.”

She pulled her wrist out of his grasp. Was he blind? This was disgusting. “Of what? I’m going to find the bathroom.” 

The minute she stepped out of the box a flashbulb went off. “No pictures.” She said and then someone grabbed her arms tightly “Stop.”

The Prophet employees were like animals, and when the spots from the flash left her eye she was staring not the photographers but at a deranged looking Percy Weasley. He looked feral. He thrust his wand into her throat. She had no time to react, and then darkness.


	27. Death in the Slow Lane

She woke up in a bed so luxurious that she thought it was her own at Yaxley manor. The magic was wrong, the  _ smell _ was wrong, and the person staring at her intently was wrong. She stared back at death, Lewis Catchepoole or Grindelwald, who was sitting at her bedside, hands clasped together. Death himself greeted her. He was gaunt, but it suited him. “Good morning.”

“G'morning,” She replied, it was hard to get her mouth to move so it was more of a slurry of syllables.

He took her hand in his own and she tried to move away but her body felt incredibly weak and sluggish. She saw that her robes were missing. “Even now your magic is  _ so good _ .”

“Please stop.” She said  focusing on tugging her hand away, in the end Grindelwald dropped it.

“Do you know where we are?” He said gesturing to the room around them. “I took over Yaxley manor to make you more comfortable. I bound your magic for now to make  _ me _ more comfortable, until we well…” Grindelwald looked at the window, mid-morning light stretched over the floor. “Until we make a gift out of you.”

She closed her eyes to prevent anyone from seeing her thoughts, trying to calm herself and find a way out. “It’s a little late, you know, I wanted to do it before the school opened as kind of a  _ welcome back _ thing, now it’s nothing more than a  _ contribution _ .” Grindelwald squeezed her hand. “Hold on, I got a pretty dress for the sacrifice, you must do everything with a bit of flair.”

“Why?” She rasped, trying to move and succeeding in rolling over a bit in the bed away from him.

“What do you mean why? Because I love him.” Grindelwald sounded offended. “Those little fools running around trying to prevent me from getting sacrifices, from gathering muggleborns with  _ good blood  _ and  _ good families _ to protect Hogwarts from Voldemort, you got rid of them for me so I thought you  _ got it _ . That’s why I brought you back here after that Weasley idiot cursed you point blank, because we  _ get it _ . Let me go get this dress so we can get on with it.” Grindelwald took a bit to get out of the chair but gave her a smile.

He continued his monologue from the closet. “You know, when I asked Anne Yaxley to do this she was all for it, of course she wouldn’t refuse me as Albus. Polyjuice is easy enough when you live with someone. Albus was a bit cross with me near the end of that row, and now it goes down as some great triumph. It was because you see, wizarding blood, pure blood, is hard to come by, and I spilled it for some of his students, rather stupid in retrospect, but now I’ve got a muggleborn so-aha” He showed her a white dress and then tossed it on the bed. He looked upwards for a moment and then frowned “I’m being called.”

It took her a few minutes just to get her arms to cooperate and she grabbed the fabric. If she was at Yaxley manor, then that meant the house elves were here. “Fianna.” She whispered “Fianna.”

“Mistress Hermione.” Fianna said pulling her ears “Mistress Hermione is  _ hurt _ . The masters are gone. Fianna cannot find them.”

“Can you apparate me out of here?” She asked moving her hand to Fianna, god help her it felt like the covers were made out concrete and she was trapped beneath it.

“Mistress is family but..” Fianna pulled at her ears “House elves can only travel on family land.”

She felt tears of frustration build up in her eyes and she closed her fist tightly around the silk white dress. She was naked and going to be bled like Lucius as some sort of  _ present _ to a lover. The wheels in her mind turned and she recalled something useful. That night Lucius had come he asked for Draco to be moved.

“Fianna. Dress.  _ Iverness _ .” She ground out.

The fabric moved around her and the house elf tentatively grabbed her hand and the two of them apparated.

Her head met the floor was a crack and Fianna started fretting over her. Hermione was seeing stars, but she knew someone here could help her. She got to her hands and knees and promptly collapsed. Where was her adrenaline? What was this magic? “Mistress Hermione! Mistress Hermione is  _ bleeding _ .”

“ _ Get Draco _ .” She said getting up again, she had to get away from this apparition point and barricade herself somewhere. If he was invited in to kill Corban’s mother, he had access to all the properties and it was only going to be a minute or so before he traced their signature here.

“Mistress Hermione, please I get help.” Fianna said and disappeared.

Hermione began to drag herself across the floor. Her whole body felt like it was buzzing, every limb was asleep and  _ nothing _ was cooperating, even her thoughts were slow. She moved towards a chair and fell behind it panting.

“What do you want you infernal  _ elf _ ?” Draco’s voice was filled with disdain, echoing off the halls of the estate. “Who is this Mistress, Uncle Yaxley is single or fucking Dolo- _ Granger _ .”

She felt the magic change in the room, and she  _ knew _ she had been traced. “Fianna.” Merlin if only her mouth and her mind could work together. “Both. Upstairs.”

The elf seemed to know more than she did because the knobby fingers closed around her arm and Draco’s hand and they were gone again. The house rattled as someone apparated downstairs.

“Fucking  _ hell _ , get off of me elf, why are you taking orders from this mudblood.”

She fell backwards into a wall, her whole body was trying to wake up from a sleep. “Cursed,  _ please  _ no time.”

Draco sneered at her and kicked her over. “Mudblood bitch. Came to figure out why I didn’t go back to school this year?”

“Miss Granger?” A voice called from the hall and fear made her hands work faster than her mind could, she grabbed Draco and pulled him close. Grindelwald.

“No.” She whispered fervently. “Be quiet.”

“Miss Granger, I can  _ feel _ your magic, it calls to me like a siren song.” Grindelwald’s voice was sing songy as his footsteps echoed off the hallway, there was a bang as a door opened. “Which room are you in, my little girl?”

“The mudblood is in here!” Draco called pulling away from her and kicking her over again.

As she lay there, staring at the hardwood floor next to her face, Tonks’ last words to her repeated over and over in her head. “You can’t change your blood!”

“Right, I suppose you’re one of my father’s friends.” Draco said “I caught the mudblood, is this my initiation? Can I be...you know, one of you now?”

She closed her eyes and thought a few times about how stupid Draco Malfoy was compared to his father and then she was hauled up off the ground like a sack of potatoes by Grindelwald and tossed over his shoulder. For being so old, he certainly didn't act as frail as he looked. “Who are you?” Grindelwald’s voice was drowned out by the blood rushing to her head.

“What do you mean who am  _ I _ ?” Draco asked in disbelief “You came here to  _ test me _ .”

“I came here to get my sacrifice.” Grindelwald replied “Her blood will keep Hogwarts safe for centuries.”

“What?” Draco sounded dumbfounded. “What about me?”

“What about you?” Grindelwald asked and the two of of them began to leave the room. Draco grabbed her hand and she wished he hadn’t because she almost slid off Grindelwald's back.

“What about me? Do you know who I am?” Draco tugged on her and she slid, silk against velvet and she felt hands on her legs. “My father will hear of this, and you’ll regret the day you forgot about Draco Malfoy.”

“A pity, that the younger generation has forgotten me.” Grindelwald pulled and Draco’s hand left hers.

She turned her head only slightly to see a dazed looking Malfoy, his hand opening and closing as if he was trying to make out what had just happened. She reached out to him once more but he didn’t see her. She couldn’t change her blood. Draco would always only see her as a mudblood, and she would die as one.

A strong hand met her own and her body slid off of Grindelwald’s with a  _ thunk _ . She felt her nose crack on the hardwood floors and she cursed Draco Malfoy with all that she was. “Hey!” He said, suddenly sounding very brave “I’m Draco  _ fucking _ Malfoy and you’ll listen to me when I’m talking.”

“ _ Crucio _ .” And suddenly Draco was on the ground with her, twitching a few inches from her hand.

Crucio seemed to feel warm from the outside, she closed her eyes and started concentrating on a Protego, the wand movements, and then the intent and Draco stopped twitching next to her as the curse was cut off. “Help me, Malfoy.” She wiped some of the blood off her face and began to trace the circle “Help me!” She cried.

He was sweating and cross-eyed and  _ scared _ . “How? How mudblood?”

“Feel the magic, feel the old magic and help guide my hand.” She could barely stay awake the pain was searing through her skull as she kept the protego up and then her hand began to move on it’s own, she realized Draco was guiding it.

The floor around them began to glow and she realized she was casting a bubble of a ward around them and when she opened her eyes again Draco was staring at something behind her. Should she call a house elf to save them? Could she risk the house elf being killed before getting inside her wards?

“He’s waiting.” Draco said, shivering “He’s waiting for something.”

“He’s waiting for me to die.” Hermione said forlornly, her face felt like fire, she knew she was covered in her own blood. Her eyes went up to Draco who was laying next to her, his hand touching the mandala she had drawn for their warding.

“Why?”

She tapped her finger on the mandala “Blood.”

“Mine?” He sounded offended. “He’s not getting it.”

Her fingers reached out to grab Draco’s and he stilled. “Mudblood,” He said unsure “What?”

She concentrated, her mouth was full of cotton. “Can you apparate to Malfoy Manor?”

“I don’t have a license, I can’t.” He looked up at the man behind them “I can  _ try _ , the family magic-”

“Try.” She pleaded.

“If we splinch-”

“Try.” She insisted.

Draco did the most unexpected thing and grabbed her hand. “The Dark Lord will kill you once you arrive.”

Hermione knew that the Dark Lord was probably the only person in this country that could protect her now. “I don’t want to die here.”

Draco looked at her very seriously “I don’t want to kill you either.”

“Fucking...just  _ do it _ .” Hermione spat, blood getting on his robes.

His eyes widened and he squeezed her hand before doing the wand motions for apparition and she felt the tug at her navel and the two of them disappeared.

Malfoy Manor’s magic felt much like Yaxley Manor, that old type of magic that enveloped her like a warm blanket. She sighed when she fell on the floor again, her head hitting the marble in the foyer. “I’ll hide you.” Draco said “We can get you back to the school or something.”

“Draco, is that you?” Lucius voice was like music but then suddenly Draco was dragging her away.

“No!” She couldn’t move, damn this curse. “No!” 

Then they were gone again and she landed in Draco’s bed. Draco seemed pleased with himself. “You can thank me later for saving your life.” He said and gave her a shaky grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten this story, I've been very busy with many people coming to visit me while I'm in Asia. Playing tour guide and translator has taken up all my time.
> 
> I'll be posting two chapters to make up for it, I'm sorry again!


	28. The Noble Art

Her head was throbbing when she woke up again, Draco was asleep and there was a cloth over her face. She exhaled and concentrated on her muscles and finally, with more effort than it should have taken, slid out of the bed and onto the floor with a thunk. Draco apparently hadn’t noticed because he hadn’t moved from his chair.

Crawling out the door was a long and arduous process. Her head was throbbing and she could feel blood dripping down her chin and onto the floor, and finally she fell out into the hallway. Someone surely would discover her here, friend or foe  _ someone _ had to see her.

She was almost asleep again, her body cold on the marble floors of Malfoy manor, when someone  _ did _ discover her bleeding out in the hallway. “Hermione?” The Dark Lord said bending down to look at her. "Hermione Granger?"

Her eyes snapped open and looked into his green ones. Her savior. It was strange how things turned out this way. “Cursed.” She whispered.

He stood up. Her body floated off the ground and he peered into the room she was half in half out of. “Draco?”

She didn’t respond, it was hard to.

The Dark Lord gave her a smile and nodded. “You’ll find, Hermione, I always take care of my own.” His hand slipped into hers and squeezed reassuringly.

The Dark Lord was the only person she had anymore, and that thought frightened her. No one else could possibly stop Grindelwald but the man who was floating her down the hall. He kicked a door as he passed it and a few moments later a disheveled Lucius Malfoy came out. “Bring your son, Lucius.”

“Is that...Hermione?” 

“It is.”

She hated the Dark Lord’s magic, she hated it because there was a darkness that tugged at her, and then after a few moments it took her and she was out again.

A tapping on her face woke her up and she gasped, shrinking away from the touch, afraid that she had woken up with Grindelwald again. Severus Snape was looking at her. “Back with us?”

She  _ felt _ tired. She pushed Severus and turned her head away. “Stop.”

“I'll take that as a sign of your recovery.” Severus sat back and looked over at someone. “Her nose is fixed. Her muscles might have some problems due to the binding curse. Her shoulder is dislocated and I’ll expect Draco soon once the Dark Lord is through with him.”

She turned her head and saw Corban and Antonin who looked much worse for wear. “How long?”

“A few days, only a few days.” Corban said relieved.

“I don’t remember.” She said reaching out to them “I don’t remember anything but waking up yesterday. Was it yesterday?”

“It’s okay, love.” Corban said taking her hand and squeezing it “Did Draco do anything? He won’t even admit you were in his bedroom. He’s always been-”

She waved it off, enjoying the novelty of using her hands again, a smile through the pain. “No, he tried to save me somehow, but it just backfired. He doesn’t know any healing magic so I was just bleeding out in his bed instead of on the floor of the Iverness estate.”

“How did you escape?” Antonin asked. “The wards for Yaxley Manor were reset. It might have been easier to get into Gringotts.”

“Fianna.” She smiled.

Corban kissed her hand. “We have a hotel in London, we thought...well London was most likely according to Severus, but _Iverness_...”

“I don’t like the magic here.” She admitted “I want to go.”

“Right, Severus can just visit us at the hotel then, love, no one is making you stay anywhere anymore.” Corban said and looked over at Severus who was on the other side of her bed. “Right?”

“Take her then, I know where you’re staying.” He said collecting the empty vials next to her bed. “Dolohov is more than capable of brewing the healing potions, and all she needs is rest.”

Her one arm was in a sling so she reached out for Antonin with her free hand and he picked her up out of the bed, taking the sheets with her and the three of them walked from the room she was staying in down the hall.

She could hear Draco’s screaming as they walked down the hall asked to be let down. “What happens when you keep secrets Draco?” She could hear the Dark Lord asking.  
  
They walked past, another sin to add to her sea of sins. 

 

* * *

Antonin woke her in the early hours of the morning by playing with her hair. She smiled looking at him, his eyes reflected the city lights that were flooding in through the floor to ceiling windows on one side of their bedroom in the posh central hotel.

“I got you ice cream.” He replied quietly, returning her smile. “And Champagne, and Severus told us about the muggle elf service.”

“Room service.” She corrected him and stifled a laugh, it came out as a gust of air instead. She felt Corban shift behind her.

“You were gone for so long.” He hummed tugging on one curl. “I thought Yax was going to start taking Weasleys out one by one.”

She frowned and turned over slightly in the bed to see Corban who was spooning her. “Is that true?”

“I’d’ve killed all the blighters.” Corban mumbled sleepily “We caught that one...Percy, you were in his memories on the day you left, but…”

“But he didn’t know much more than just to give you a portkey.” Antonin assured. “Perfectly useless Percy Weasley.”

“Mrs. Weasley’s still missing.” She said thoughtfully “Probably would do anything at this point to get her back.”

“He regretted it.” Antonin said dangerously in front of her “He probably regrets ever being born at this point.”

This time for some reason, she had no guilt at hearing what they had done to Percy. She tried to hide her yawn in the pillow but it didn’t work well enough because Antonin laughed. “Sleepy still?”

“Hungry  _ and _ tired.” She complained.

“We can call the muggle elf if you want?” Corban kissed her neck before sitting up. “What’ll be love?”

“A full english.” She said rolling over on her back. “Oh and some croissants too.”  
  
Corban gave her one of those smiles that made her all gooey and she was surely blushing. There wasn’t a moment that he was unattractive to her, his hair in a loose ponytail that draped over his shoulder, the ambient light in the room giving him softer features, even his scars were something to admire tonight. She reached up and tugged on the ribbon holding his hair together and pulled it loose. “I like it down.”

He smiled as he picked up the phone and dialed one number before holding it to his ear tentatively. The silence stretched out and she could hear faintly, someone on the other end asking for his order.

Hermione took the phone from him to order while Antonin watched the two of them from beside her on the bed. “Do you want anything?” She asked him, moving the mouthpiece away briefly.

“Tea and whisky.”

“Corban?”

“The same.”

She rolled her eyes but a smile broke out anyways. “Yes, tea  _ and _ whisky. That’ll be it.” She handed the phone back to Corban who put it back on the receiver. “Forty minutes.”   
  


* * *

  
“One by one,” Corban commented as she read the paper next to him in bed “They fall.”

MUGGLE GENOCIDE: PROTECTION OR PREDATION? 

“Like shooting fish in a barrel, Corban.” She said watching him slide out of bed.

No matter who Corban Yaxley was, he was first the head of the DMLE, and his sense of justice was absolute.

“A few more fish came out of this one, Percy of course, and then this Remus fellow who tried to kill me.” He tapped on Tonks who looked rather demure in her photo on the cover of the Daily Prophet “Cattermole, too. What are you feeling like, love?”  
  
She laid in bed for a moment, enjoying the view of Corban against the skyline of London and the morning sunlight. “Sleeping more,” She admitted, lying back down next to a dozing Antonin. “Even though I should be concerned about Grindelwald, and the Dark Lord, and Dumbledore.”

“Sleep, little love, we’ll wake you if anything exciting happens.” Corban said and kissed her forehead.

The first exciting thing to happen was Rodolphus and his younger brother, a timid Rabastan popping by on an errand from the Dark Lord. 

“Does he talk?” She asked Rodolphus, gesturing towards Rabastan who was staring into his tea, trying to divine something from the leaves swirling around the bottom.

Rodolphus nudged Rabastan and he looked up at her fearfully, but she offered him a tray of biscuits that was more of just some cadbury biscuits out of the tin, but he took one. “Sorry then.”

“No need to be sorry.” She assured.

“I just have a bad past with dark witches.”

Hermione’s face fell and she let the biscuit tray down on the table.

“Oi,” Corban said next to her, looking up from some work he was doing “Does she look like a dark witch to you, or are you blind?”

Hermione looked at Antonin briefly before giving a small smile to Rabastan. “A spade is a spade.”

Antonin let out a puff of laughter. “If you’re a dark witch then I’m the dark lord.”

“Explain why some  _ girl _ has everyone all worked up then?” Rabastan said pointing at her and she recoiled “Why am I here to  _ check in _ on her for the Dark Lord? Aren’t I supposed to be out murdering or cursing or-”

“Is that what you usually do?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t like kissing ass to people who don’t deserve it.” Rabastan said and finally met her gaze.

“Then don’t.” She shrugged “I’m in the same boat as you, Mr. LeStrange, trying to stay alive while old men clamor over which way to best kill me.”  
  
“Then why am I here?” Rabastan turned to his older brother “You sai-”

“We are here to teach Miss Granger the dark arts, but  _ mostly _ I am here to enjoy some quiet from my wife and catch up with Dolohov.” He pulled out four books and set them on the table. “Enjoy this for what it is, quit looking for some hidden meaning.”

Antonin inspected every one before handing one to her which she took while thanking Rodolphus who was an unwilling tutor, and mostly used tutoring her as an excuse to chat about old man things with Antonin.

Antonin and Rodolphus were cell mates and spent most of their time together for the past fifteen years. Their conversations over the course of the morning ranged from the most mundane “How is your family?” to the deeper conversations like the one they were having now, after the tea went cold.

“Aren’t you finding life hard?” Rodolphus asked, his finger playing with the tea cup, Antonin was playing with her curls as she continued to read the book, half awake and reclined into him she read the page a fourth time over.

“Somewhat.” Antonin admitted “Some things make it easier, some things make it harder. Everything is much different than when I left it.”

“Even our Lord has changed.” Rodolphus said sighing as he leaned back “Here I am hanging out with a mudblood, or I’m chasing after halfie children, or I’m posing as some Ministry halfwit. It’s not the same as before is it?”

Antonin shifted so she fell into his lap. “What are your thoughts, princess? Should Rodolphus be spending his morning with you?”

She looked over at Rodolphus who was trying to look anywhere but her. “The war has changed, it’s no longer wizard against wizard, it’s institution against institution, isn’t it?”

“Clever little love.” Corban remarked from the other side of the couch. “Listen to her, she knows more than she lets on.”

“So, where do you fit into this, besides a bedwarmer for two of our Lord’s finest?” Rodolphus asked.

Corban started to say something but she waved it off.

“Eventually,” She said seriously closing the book she was holding over her head “Someone is going to try and kill me to protect their institution, whether it’s Grindelwald, Dumbledore, or your Dark Lord, because you know, it’s all about potency, and I have plenty of it. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To make sure your lord’s  _ last resort _ is still content in this hotel room with his finest.”

Rodolphus scratched his beard and looked at her for a moment before smiling. “I can see why you like her.”

“It’s the hair.” She assured before opening her book again. 

Antonin tugged on a curl before leaning down and kissing her nose. “Maybe it is.”   
  


* * *

  
What she thought was room service was a haggard looking Lucius and Severus. She opened the door and the two of them stumbled in without as much as a hello. She stepped out of their way and looked back at Corban who was watching her.

“Should I ring the Dark Lord as well?” She asked as the two men collapsed in the living area.

Her response was Lucius tossing a scroll at her that landed a few feet to her left. She  _ accio’d _ it before rummaging through the mini-bar for the pepper up potions she knew Antonin kept, pulling out two before returning to the small living room area that now had no room for her.

“Transfigure a chair or something you ponce.” Corban said kicking Lucius’ feet off the table “Hermione was sitting there.”

“It’s okay,” She said handing a vial to Lucius, and another to Severus who inspected it carefully “I’m sure I wasn’t the only person at the mercy of a Dark Wizard this week.”

She slid onto Corban’s lap easily and he kissed her shoulder. “Apparently you’re the only one who was left with manners.” He murmured looking at Severus who was on the other side 

“Draco?” Hermione asked.

“Fine as can be expected.” Severus replied and downed the pepper up potion “Recovering from the shock that his mudblood enemy is now the Dark Lord’s favored, and being in the Dark Lord’s good graces doesn’t mean you’re free from torture.”

“The boy was tortured, the boy won’t do anything but cry.” Lucius seethed “and it’s because he let you  _ live _ .”

“Oh come off it Lucius,” Hermione said annoyed “Draco tried to offer me up as some kind of sacrifice to Grindelwald when he thought it was a way to pass a test for the Dark Lord, it was only when Grindelwald was dragging my body out of the room did Draco have a fit and started demanding attention.” 

“Lucius,” Rodolphus interjected “Your boy has always been a bit of a brat, you let Narcissa make the boy soft.”

“He’s eager to follow in my footsteps, and now there’s no way to deter him.” Lucius said pulling his fingers back through his hair “I tried to keep him away from the house and  _ you _ brought him back.”

Antonin shifted next to him in a way that made the air in the room thicken. He was obviously getting annoyed at Lucius’ anger and was only going to tolerate a few minutes more. “Lucius,” Hermione pleaded, her eyes flicking to him but staying on Antonin “I am truly sorry that I brought Draco back, I was trying to protect us both from Grindelwald who had breached the house in Iverness. I did not _know_ he was going to take me to his room I was hoping he’d at least take me to you, but my primary concern at the time was keeping us _both_ alive.”  
  
“Which she did.” Corban added in her defense. “So count your blessings.”

She broke the seal while Lucius continued to lament his main failures as a father and unrolled an invitation to a Charity Event at the Ministry of Magic in two weeks time. Corban opened his mouth to say something but she felt the swell of magic in the room and she cast a shielding charm.

“Hey!” Corban shouted as Antonin’s curse bounced off her Protego. “What’s this then?”

“Insult her again, Malfoy, and you won’t be saying anything at all.” Antonin’s voice was low “Everyone’s had a hand in keeping your idiot son alive.”

“She put him right back into danger! He’s going to be bled dry!” Lucius said bitterly, his head turning towards Hermione who recoiled “I put everything on the line to get him to Iverness and-”

There was a smack, and Hermione’s hand stung. She glared at Lucius Malfoy who was sporting a very red cheek. “Corban put everything on the line to house your son, I put everything on the line to keep him alive. This is a fucking war, all of us have everything on the bloody line.”

She flexed her hand and bit her lip. Did she really just slap Lucius Malfoy across the face? Apparently. She exhaled shakily and stood up. “Eat some lunch, drink some  _ fucking _ tea and get a hold of yourself because we’re all fucked in this war.” The only thing more dramatic she could think of, she did. Hermione grabbed the book she was reading off the table, flipped her hair, and stalked off into the bedroom.

Rodolphus LeStrange laughed and the doorbell went off as she fell into the bed, adrenaline and nerves coursing through her. “Oh Antonin, I  _ do _ like her.”

“She  _ hit me _ !” Lucius shrieked.

“You deserved it.” Severus’ voice could be heard from the other room as the cart was wheeled in, the silverware clattering with the china as the check was signed.


	29. Bad Tidings

Lucius stood on one end of the cart and Hermione sat in the other, half of Lucius’ face was still red from earlier, and in one hand he had a bottle of champagne, Severus was standing next to him with his arms crossed. “Say it.”

“I’m sorry.” Lucius said, shoving out the bottle of champagne “I shouldn’t have to say sorry! But I am.”

Corban nudged her.

“I’m sorry I hit you Lucius.” Hermione said taking the bottle out of his hand. “Can we have lunch together?”

He sniffed and sat down ostentatiously, ruffling the fabrics of his robes.

She rolled her eyes “So, tell me more about this charity event.” She asked.

“Oh it’s in your honor,” Lucius said “For your charity, for muggles who have been victimized by order witches and wizards. We’re going to all toss money at it and David Moor will be there and it will all be very showy.”

“And the trials?” Hermione asked.

Lucius rubbed his cheek absentmindedly as he stuck a fork in his salad “What trials?”

She looked at Corban who had worked to track down every Order member that was currently jailed in the basement of the Ministry of Magic and noticed he seemed unaffected by the fact that his hard work was now going to be swept under the rug.

“So that’s it then? No justice for these women who died?” Hermione asked stabbing at her salad, annoyed “No justice for the murderers who killed hundreds of women, just a pretty charity ball and lip service with my name attached and then they all disappear?”

“Well,” Rodolphus said, sipping his wine “The corruption in the Ministry is cleaned out, you’ve overthrown the Minister of Magic by very official channels, and you’ve arrested and doled out justice via Yaxley for everyone that’s displeased you. Is there anything else you want? Antonin says you like champagne and you got that too I see.”

“The corruption we don’t _like_ is gone, replaced with our own corruption. And justice! I want public trials, hearings, _law_ so stuff like this doesn’t happen again. That’s the point, isn’t it? Uncovering all this so we don’t have to go through it again.”

“Justice is a farce.” Lucius said plainly. “You got trials because trials suited the Ministry, if you had uncovered Death Eaters killing people on your property, or went to The Order with your concerns, you’d be dead.”

“Even if it is a farce there should be some precedent set so that wizards can’t ta-”

“What justice do you want?” Rodolphus asked “The bad guys were put away, you have the world at your fingertips now, more money-”

“If you think I want or care for money, they you don’t know me.” Hermione cut him off “This whole thing wasn’t about being right or getting rich, it was about protecting people who don’t have any protection, and that protection starts with these cases being done by the book and getting _in_ the book.”

“My little love,” Yaxley’s tone was soft “You’re a smart witch, but when have you seen anything being done _by the book_?”

“And the next time someone decides to use blood for common warding? The next time hundreds of muggles are slaughtered because it was convenient?”

“Hermione.” Antonin hardly ever called her by her name, she ducked her head a bit knowing that he was already in a mood thanks to Lucius. “You have benefitted just as much as we have from avoiding _the book_. This is your justice.”

“This is not how I expected my justice.” She said honestly. “It’s not a victory is it, then? Just a hollow win in a string of wins for the Dark Lord.”

Corban squeezed her hand briefly. “You’ve won a lot.”

“It feels _wrong_ Corban.” Tears stung at her eyes.

The table quieted down.

“I feel like I’m losing more than I’m winning.” She said and ate another bite of salad to try and fill the emptiness that was taking up space in her stomach.

He kissed her temple and inhaled deeply. “I know, my love, we all are paying the same price.”

She mourned justice. She cried into her salad. The lettuce caught her tears, making each bite harder to swallow, and the table remained quiet as she ate her ideals.

* * *

Narcissa and Paris came around a few days later with bolts upon bolts of fabrics, Corban was home with her today, Antonin out taking care of the last of Kingsley’s “trial” left the two of them alone in quiet company.

Corban was restorative, he loved to dote on her and she loved the way he smiled at her whenever she looked up at a book. He was sipping whisky as she read about blood based apparition and a waltz was playing from everywhere and nowhere. London was laid out before them as she laid his head in his lap and listened to the crescendo.

“White is the color.” Narcissa said, sitting where Lucius was a few days prior, tapping her nails on the side table impatiently as the fabrics began to unfurl and hover around them “White is purity, white is _fresh_.”

Hermione didn’t feel fresh, she felt like crawling back into her oversized bed with Corban and hiding beneath the sheets until everything blew over. The Dark Lord asked for her to sacrifice her dignity, which Corban and Antonin both assured was little in compared to her life, but everyone around her sacrificed something, she was next on the list. Antonin and Corban fought about this at length, but in the end, she was alive, and that’s what mattered.

“White is what I was almost killed in by Grindelwald.” She said sitting up finally. “Ivory or Cream please, I am not some sacrificial virgin.”

Fabrics began to fold themselves. “Cotton is too plain, no brocades, something timeless.” Narcissa said and more fabrics came out of an endless pile of samples “She is the wife of two ancient families, silk, but not wedding silk, power, acromantula silk.” Six samples floated around the room of ivories and creams, plain but stunning in their own right, Hermione stood up and ran her hand over all of them. 

“What do you think, Corban?” She asked, her fingers skimming over another bolt of silk that was coming unbound under her touch so she could inspect the weave. “Ivory or Cream.”

“Cream.”

“I trust his eye more than my own.” She admitted to Paris.

Suddenly she was wrapped in cream fabric and she let out a yelp of surprise. Corban laughed. 

She huffed as the fabric began to pin itself up in a gown “Narcissa!”

“Oh quit it, you think you’d be used to this by now.” She said and knocked the phone off the hook and sighed. “How do you call for tea? This is going to be awhile.”

“Arms up.” Paris said tapping on her forearm.

Corban gave her a grin. “Arms up, love, this is gonna be awhile.”

* * *

Narcissa and Paris left and Hermione grabbed the book she had been reading this morning and went off to find Corban who had gotten bored of the nitpicky last steps of purchasing a gown, laces, gems and glamours. Narcissa loved the details, she told Hermione on several occasions that if she remembered the details the big picture would compose itself.

The cello solo wove through the suite from the bathroom and she dropped her book off on a side table, pushing the door open with a smile. A book was floating above the water of the large jet tub, a bottle of whisky newly opened was sitting next to an empty snifter, and of course Corban.

This was the man she loved, scars and all. He was looking at her with dark eyes over the top of the book, his hair was slicked back, a few tendrils escaping to frame his face. “Done with your fitting?”

She gave a smile and her gown was gone. “Room for me?”

“Always room for you, love.” He said closing the book and letting it float past her head onto the counter. “What did you settle on?” 

She slid into the water and nestled up beside him. “That I’m going completely starkers and the Dark Lord can rot for all I care, if it’s my charity event, I can choose right?”

“A few men will appreciate that.” He murmured, his breath smelled like whisky, and she was starting to relate that smell with desire because she squeezed her legs together in anticipation.

“Is one of them you?” She purred.

“Are you feeling up to being appreciated?” He asked, kissing up her jawline. “I have a lot of appreciation to give.”

“I was waiting.” Her hand came up to cup his cheek and she brushed her thumb against his white scar “Will you appreciate me?”

His appreciation was tentative at first, soft kisses that barely missed her mouth, his hand trailing down so his fingers curled around the back of her neck. The water sloshed around them as he pulled her closer, the column of her neck exposed to his wandering lips. She could smell the Firewhiskey in his kisses, it was an aphrodisiac.

“Corban.” She moaned as his thumb stroked the small of her waist underwater. He played her so well, but she liked to be played.

He stilled, a tease. “Yes, love?”

“Don’t tease,” She chastised as his hand slid around her waist, his fingers digging into her rear and pulling her closer to him so she was flush against his body. She could feel his erection digging into her thigh and shifted so it was closer to her center.

“No teasing,” His smile was infectious, she was smiling too “I promise.” He kissed her again, his smile against her lips, which she quickly chased away by yanking on his hair.

He shifted them so that she was straddling him in the large tub, his shaft settled neatly along her slit, the warmth of the water sloshing around them as Corban deepened the kiss, his tongue caressing hers in mimickry of his hands. He was a patient lover at times, a demanding lover at others, but this was patience, this was savoring. 

He broke the kiss first, his lips running along her jawline. “The only thing better than seeing you in a white dress is seeing you out of one. When can I marry you, love?”

She moved her hips experimentally and was rewarded with a gasp. “Desperate?” She mocked, threading her fingers into her hair and pulling him closer to her.

“Always for you,” He groaned and pressed up against her, his kisses stopped at her ear and began down the column of her throat, his teeth sometimes nipping gently at the skin to get a reaction. “Please.” His voice was hoarse.

“Promises, promises.” She said, her free hand slipping down his chest and beneath the water to where their hips met, her index finger brushing lightly over the head of his cock.

She lifted herself up, water rolling down her skin, her wild hair sticking to her face where the steam had made her wet and looked down at Corban, the man who was so much more than a man, her savior with all his scars, her worshipper with all his adoration, her lover. Slowly, watching his face, she lowered herself onto his cock, feeling the girth stretch her as his fingers dug into her hips. This was what she needed, to feel his need, his desperation for her.

She needed to feel like she belonged to someone, and the way he whispered her name repeatedly, told her that she belonged. Hermione seated herself on him and stilled, enjoying his throbbing cock as she refused to move. 

“Please,” He prayed. “Gods, Hermione.”

She silenced his prayers with another kiss, moving against him slowly so they wouldn’t spill too much water, moving slowly so that she could savor this tenderness from him. 

He moaned into her mouth as his hands left her waist and cupped her breasts, stroking them and then finally rolling her nipples until she responded. Everything the man did was sensual, every touch made her crave more. He was never rough with her, not his little love, only kindness, only enough to make her melt without burning her.

She rolled her hips as she rode him, and suddenly the gentle caresses turned rough as he broke the kiss. “Slowly, slowly.” He begged. “Please.”

A mischievous smile and she rolled her hips again.

He threw his head back against the tub, a string of curses, followed by her name. “I’m old, my love, slowly, slowly. Let me appreciate you.”

She smiled, a hand coming to his chest, following one long white curse mark that crossed his body the same way it crossed hers. He had plenty more than just the one, but she loved the _real_ Corban Yaxley, every scar made him a little more real to her. 

He thrust deeply, holding her there with his hands on her thighs, grinding his hips against her pelvis, hitting just the right spot to make her tense up. “Appreciate that?” He asked with a smile before doing it again causing her to moan, her fingers digging into his chest.

She met his thrusts with her own, a game of getting the most pleasure from the other, pushing Corban to the brink and him stilling her as he tried to regain control. “Hermione,” He groaned, she could feel his cock swell inside of her, he was so close, she wanted to see him lose control with her so despite his iron grip on her thighs.

She ground her hips against his, enjoying the friction of skin against skin, each plea on his lips giving her a heady sense of power and desire and finally he grabbed her hair roughly, pulling her down to him and kissed her roughly, his hips meeting each thrust.

His other hand came between them, a finger, and then two slipping between her lips and rubbing her clit furiously. 

She felt her body tense immediately, but she was trapped in a kiss, and he was pumping into her. There was no way to get away from the contact. The tables had turned rather quickly in his favor, and she could not protest as his tongue sought hers, his hand pulling her hair roughly even as he brought her closer to heaven.

He let out a primal growl of frustration that she felt from her fingertips to her toes and her orgasm crept up on her, tearing through her body with a high pitched whine, her body going slack even as he continued to thrust into her. He broke the kiss first, panting against her lips. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, you’re so perfect when you come for me.” His voice was a hoarse whisper and she felt a shudder of satisfaction as he spilled his seed inside of her.

When he was done, neither of them moved, she rested her head on his shoulder and felt the charm as the bath was reheated. She panted her appreciation into his neck as he stroked her arm, and that’s where Antonin found them a half hour later. Hermione fast asleep in the crook of Corban’s neck, a book floating before the two of them.

“I take it the dress fitting went well.” Antonin said from the doorway.

“And you said it would be so boring.” Corban replied as another page turned itself.

* * *

The missive came while the three of them were eating breakfast with Rodolphus who was there after another fall out with Bellatrix. It seemed, at least to Hermione, that there were more falling outs than falling ins. Corban batted the owl away with the scroll before unfurling it.

He read it over once before handing it to Antonin and Hermione frowned “What is it?” She asked trying to intercept it.

“Patient, princess.” Antonin said, reading it briefly and grinning at her before handing it to Rodolphus.

“Antonin, don’t be cruel.” She said and snatched it out of Rodolphus’ hands.

Rodolphus laughed and took another sip of champagne. “All yours.”

She read over it briefly and looked up at Corban. “They found Molly Weasley.” 

“Mundungus Fletcher found Molly Weasley.” Corban corrected “Robbed the corpse, he did.”

“We’re going right?” She said rolling the parchment back up. “She was used in a ritual right?”

“We’re the first notified.” Corban said “Once they secure the scene we’ll leave, but first,” he tapped her plate with his fork “eat.”

There was a strange finality of Molly Weasley’s death that stuck with her through the rest of breakfast. Everyone she knew was slowly disappearing from her life, and now the two heads of the Weasley family were no more, the children now orphans.

“Don’t think on it too hard.” Rodolphus said “In the early days, every death seems more significant than the last.”

“I’m hoping there are no more days like this.” She said eying the parchment “I don’t ever want death to become insignificant to me.”

“What are you doing today, Rodolphus?” Antonin asked “Blood rituals are your favorite, after all.”

“I suppose I’m coming with you then.” He tossed his napkin on the table. “For my usual fee.”

“We’ll pop round the off license then and see if we can’t find you something afterwards, champagne keeps disappearing.” Corban said eying Hermione.

“Don’t look at me!” She said and gestured to everyone at the table who was also drinking a glass of champagne with breakfast. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try valiantly to pretend like I didn't go on hiatus for a long time, but I did for two reasons:
> 
> I needed to see how the story would pan out and if I needed to go back and edit anything since we're getting close to the endgame.
> 
> I've been backpacking thru Asia since February and backpacking takes up all my time.
> 
> But alas, unfinished fics haunt me and so I finally got to the end of this one so I can start posting chapters.
> 
> I also have read comments and know that Order bashing is bad (and should be tagged), but please stick with me, this is a mystery, not everything as it seems at first glance. I modeled this story not after Midsomer Murders (although that was the intent), but after mysteries in which a single small thread unravels into a very large reaching conspiracy. So if it's not clear, it will be!
> 
> I have a lot more to post, but hopefully my readers still exist. I have gotten, and loved, everyone's comments. Thank you for supporting me!


	30. Last Man Out

Molly Weasley had a sort of quiet dignity about her corpse. She was propped up against a headstone that read Fabian Prewett in a graveyard in Devon. It was a sunny fall day, and Hermione stood next to Corban as an auror read off his notes about the site, Antonin was crouched next to the body, inspecting her hands as Rodolphus stood behind him, rubbing his finger across his lips in thought. 

“Fletcher was found in Knockturn Alley pawning off the wedding ring, the inscription inside was her and Arthur’s names and so the proprietor thought to inform the police.” An auror, an older man who looked so familiar Hermione could have sworn she had seen him before, read off a small piece of parchment.

“Messy.” Hermione said “It was so obviously a setup.”

“Right, love.” Corban nodded “Did he say who told him to find the body?”

The auror shook his head “He’s not talking, asking for a solicitor.”

“Fat chance.” Corban waved it off “How long has she been dead then?”

“Twelve hours and some change, she was dragged here, there’s no sign of blood despite the obvious blood loss.”

“The ritual site is nearby, this is Devon, Prewett land is here. Scour the woods, it’s somewhere.” Rodolphus said pensively “If she’s been dead twelve hours, we don’t have much time before the magic dissipates and we’ll never find it.”

“You heard the man, get some additional aurors and comb the woods.” Corban said and turned to Rodolphus “What about the body?”

“This was a message to us, there’s no doubt about it.” Antonin said standing up finally “The Prewett brothers? Not very subtle, is it?”

“Why?” Hermione asked.

Antonin didn’t respond, but Rodolphus did “Antonin killed the both of them in the last war. This is a message to you Hermione.”

“Me?” She stepped back into Corban who placed his hand on her waist.

It was hard to remember that Antonin was a murderer some days, especially when he loved to dote on her so much. Especially because his love to her was so soft and timid that she was worried one wrong word would blow it out. He stood between the graves of Gideon and Fabian Prewett, his black hair creating a shadow on his face, his eyes drawn to the ground, seemingly seeing through the soil to his victims

“They hope you’ll leave.” Antonin’s voice was quiet. “That you’ll come to your senses and leave.”

“And then what? Get propped on a gravestone the same as Mrs. Weasley?” Hermione said “I’m not an idiot. I knew what I was getting into.”

“The cut on her chest means that they used heartblood in the ritual, but the blood on her hands meant at some point she performed a ritual willingly.” Rodolphus said and gestured to a cut that matched Hermione’s scar running down the middle of Molly’s body and beneath her purple gown. 

“Heartblood means...restoration ritual, health and longevity.” Hermione bit her lip “Someone is sick, someone important is sick, because Grindelwald said he would never sacrifice another pureblood, that was what caused Dumbledore to turn on him during the last war.” 

“Who’s sick then? Dumbledore?” Corban asked.

“Sick how? A heartblood ritual, it’s long and messy, the sacrifice must be alive during the duration.” Rodolphus sounded pensive. 

“He must be dying.” Hermione said quietly “To kill Molly Weasley, desperate times…”

A flare exploded somewhere in the woods and the four of them watched the red sparks over the tops of the trees. “Antonin, Rodolphus, Hermione, go, I’ll get the body to the morgue.” Corban snapped and then began to dole orders out to aurors.

The three of them walked together and Hermione grabbed Antonin’s hand, squeezing it briefly. Antonin looked down at her and gave her a hint of a smile and she knew everything was going to be alright between them.

A stunner whizzed past her head and Rodolphus was quick to withdraw his wand and send it back. She saw a flash of red hair in the woods and cast a stunner in response, hitting a tree instead, splintering it.

“Ambush.” Antonin growled and pulled her forward “Quickly, the woods isn’t defensible. Rodolphus!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sounded more annoyed than scared, and then suddenly she began to glow as warding was set over her body. She yelped and Antonin pulled her upwards suddenly so she didn’t trip over a branch.

“Rodolphus is where I learned how to ward. He’s-” A curse cut him off and Antonin fired it back, a tree cracked and began to fall with a thud in the forest. 

“Almost out, almost out.” Rodolphus said and the three of them burst through the treeline and were overlooking a small village. “There we go.” suddenly the world was bright yellow and it faded into a dull orange, like embers of a fire.

Antonin pulled her away from the brush fire, the flames licking at her robes, smoke filled her lungs that were dying for air and the three of them were between fire and six wands.

They were outnumbered, angry Weasley children, with a notable absence of Percy, stood at the edge of the woods and her _protego_ wasn’t going to be enough.

“You killed ‘em.” Ron’s voice was thick “You killed ‘em all ‘Mione.”

“That’s not true, Ron.” Hermione said sharply, fear made her _angry_. His father had killed so many women for The Order and it was her fault that they had turned on their own?

“My parents tried to protect you!” Bill’s voice was clear, even has smoke obscured their vision of the orphans “They told me all about what they found out last spring, about the Death Eater that had taken residence in your backyard, and this is how you repay them?”

“Time to collect debts.” Fred Weasley’s wand cut through the air, a slicing hex that hit Antonin’s shield charm and dissipated. 

Rodolphus moved fast, and she realized that the Death Eaters were on an entirely different level than The Order. His wand motions were quick and precise and there was suddenly one less Weasley child standing, Fred Weasley fell back into the bushes, his twin grabbing him and going down with him.

The fire was coming closer, her back was hot. She wiped the sweat from her face and her hand turned black with ashes. “Please,” She pleaded, not sure _what_ side she was on currently “You don’t know what Dumbledore is doing. We did not kill your parents.”

“You killed them!” Bill pointed his wand at Antonin “After they found out you were stalking _her_ , you pedophile!”

More shouting came from deeper into the woods and George was muttering counter curse after counter curse and then “ _ennerverate_ ” over and over. “He’s dead!”

“You killed him?” Hermione’s voice joined a chorus of others.

“Hardly.” Rodolphus replied. “A stunner is a stunner is a _st-_ ”

“Avada-” Ron sounded unsure of the curse and Hermione lunged for him, a flurry of fabric as she went for the wand, the two of them collapsing in the brush next to Fred, his wand flying into the woods and Ron, with little else to do, struggled with her.

“Murderer!” His voice was loud in her ear and she realized her mistake, because she was only a little over five feet and Ron was a little over six.

He shoved her so hard that she got whiplash, but she held onto him. “Listen to me, Ron!” She cried “Listen to me!”

“Murderer!” He seemed incapable of calling her anything else and she felt his fingers thread up through her hair as Antonin’s hands came around her waist and Ron and her were separated like two fighting cats.

Ron still had a grip on her hair and she yelped as Antonin tried to pull them apart, her head snapping one way as her body was pulled the other. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you for killing dad!”

There was shouting and curses firing off over her head and she could feel the static magic in the air.

“I didn’t kill him! Tonks killed him! Let go Ron!” She cried and then the tugging on her hair stopped.

“Tonin, _stop_.” Corban’s voice was near her ear and there was a brief pull and she was vertical, staring at twelve or so aurors in front of her, and the fire that was beginning to surround them.

Corban smoothed down her hair, her scalp was throbbing. “You’re a witch,” He chastised, and then turned to Antonin “and _you’re_ a wizard.”

“Is there anything more amusing,” Rodolphus said, silhouetted in the flames “than watching your girl try to tackle a man twice her size?”

“He was going to kill us!” She said, indignant, “You cannot block the killing curse.”

“You could disarm.” Corban toed Ron’s stunned body. “Take them back to the Ministr-”

“No! You’re as good as killing them if you take them there.” She said, stepping between Corban and Ron’s body “I will not lead to the death of another Weasley.”

“Love,” Corban sounded exasperated. “They tried to kill you, and they tr-”

“They know something.” Antonin said as Corban made an irritated sigh for being interrupted the second time.

“Fine! Take them back to their home, we’ll question them there and _if_ they have information they can stay out of jail.” Corban said, clearly peeved.

* * *

Hermione was stirring her tea with milk in a chipped tea cup as she settled herself at the table, a stunned Bill Weasley was sitting across from her, his glassy eyes seeing through her. It reminded her of a dead body. She looked up to Corban who was stirring his own mug of tea. It felt strange to use Molly’s kitchen when she herself had passed. Was her spirit still present?

Corban clinked the tea spoon a few times on his cup before flicking it slightly and Bill’s eyes focused on Hermione before realizing where he was.

His first words, after a snarl of anger, were: “I want my solicitor.”

Hermione splayed her hands out on the table, keeping it from shaking as Bill tried to push away from them. His chair was stuck to the floor, and Bill to the chair.

“Bill,” Hermione said to her tea cup before raising her eyes meeting his, and she saw amber around his irises. Lycanthropy. “You said that your father _knew_ about Antonin stalking me. Who did he tell?”

“So you can kill them too? Fat chance.” He curled his upper lip and Corban tapped on his mug a few more times.

“You’re here on her kindness, and my patience. My patience has ran out, be careful that you don’t run her kindness out too, Weasley.” Corban’s voice was cold. He was clearly angry that she had defied him in front of the aurory.

“Bring me to the Ministry then! I’m sure we can sort it out there with a lawyer! Or are you gonna kill me like mum and dad?” The table shook again as Bill struggled.

Hermione looked up at the wood beams in the ceiling and bit her lip. She was _so_ close to the truth, she could taste it in the air. Her next words made her stomach turn inside out. “Care to tell me why Gringotts is letting an unregistered lycanthrope near customers?”

The magic holding him broke, the air swelled and he lunged for her, but Antonin was quicker, his hand shot out and caught Bill around the neck. A snarl of rage as Bill’s hands swiped for her. “Act like a dog, _die_ like one.” Antonin threatened “Sit down.”

He was thrown back into the chair and a stronger sticking charm was applied, ropes came around him and bound him, just like his father when he was arrested. Bill growled and then shook his head, his hair covering his face. His eyes were now completely amber but his expression was schooled.

Hermione felt bile rising inside of her as she sipped her tea to force it back down. “We’ll make you a deal, Bill, you tell us who your dad told about Antonin, and we’ll forget about your illness.”

It was an illness, it _was_ an illness. She reminded herself in her head, an illness she was currently blackmailing him with.

“Dad told Dumbledore back in May about the stalker he had discovered.” Bill said, his voice hoarse and he struggled against the bonding. “Said he had felt the magic before at the Ministry, knew it was Dolohov. Moody agreed.”

Antonin let out a breath of laughter behind her. “Protecting his friend, then. That’s why Weasley became _disposable_.”

“Dumbledore’s always said we had to protect you Hermione, ever since you were a firstie, and you repay him by _fucking_ your stalker. Is it Stockholm syndrome? Are you sick?”

She sipped her tea to swallow the lump in her throat. “He told Moody then? About the stalker.” Things were beginning to add up.

“Only the best.” Bill said, peeved that it was even a question.

“What about the man Dumbledore sent with Professor Moody?” Hermione insisted. “What about Lewis Catchepoole?”

Bill looked at her strangely. “Who?”

“Lewis Catchepoole, a blonde man, pudgy, a bit tall.” Hermione’s words came out in a rush. She was so close _so close_.

Bill knitted his brows together and then he narrowed her eyes at him. “Catchepoole, isn’t that the man you said my dad killed? Are you trying to talk bad about my dad, mudblood?”

The chair rattled and the sticking charm on the floor began to loosen and Hermione stood up. Stricken by both the realization that she had burned the bridge with this family, and that the three of them had been playing into Dumbledore’s hand the entire year.

She turned to Corban and wrung her hands. “I have a theory.” She said, and then, before she could get a response, left out the back yard into the garden.

The garden was overgrown, she could remember watching Ron and Harry fly their brooms around the back garden while Ginny sat next to her, pining after the great Harry Potter. She would never get those days back, the Weasleys would never be carefree again, and she was no longer welcome here. Not after what she had done in that kitchen. There was no way of convincing them that she was a _good witch_ on a mission.

“Yax,” Antonin sounded exasperated. “Just leave them alone.”

“It’s not about the law, it’s about protecting ourselves from getting ambushed again. Herm-”

“We’ve been getting ambushed the entire time.” Hermione said wringing her hands together. “From the very start, we’ve been two steps behind Dumbledore, and three steps behind Grindelwald. We’ve been played. This,” She gestured to the three of them “Was part of it.”

“Because of the werewolf?” Antonin asked, sitting on the steps that led out to the garden, lacing his fingers together.

Corban's eyes became alight with the realization. “Because Dumbledore’s known the entire time, Arthur reported the stalker not only to Dumbledore, but to someone he trusted: Mad-Eye.” Corban said, scratching his stubble. He was silent for a few moments as he mulled over the facts. “The body? A plant, to lure us. To lure _you_ Antonin, because of the Prewetts, because of your history with Hermione. Even the dementors. Dammit.”

“So? Do you think he orchestrated you falling all over her the minute you met her?” Antonin sounded flippant, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“No, I think he orchestrated the life debt.” Hermione interjected. “Thinking it would be the easiest way to get you to go toe-to-toe with Professor Moody, to get rid of all the people that knew about the stalker in the woods. He sent Professor Moody to my house _knowing_ we had a life debt already, and made it seem like Catchepoole was working with Professor Moody to make sure I’d have a reason to call on it. Dammit, the whole thing!” She felt tears spring to her eyes. “The string we pulled to find Heaven, to find the corruption, all of it. He _wanted_ it pulled, he had to get rid of all the Order members who had any knowledge of Grindelwald, of the sacrifices. We did all the dirty work. He’s completely clean. No one’s left to implicate him or Grindelwald.”

“Why?” Corban asked, his arms crossed, he wouldn’t face her. “Why all this?”

“Why else would you want to be completely clean?” Rodolphus said from the doorway. “Muggle sacrifices are bad press, and you know who suffers from bad press?”

“A candidate.” Antonin said and rubbed his face with his hands. “Fuck.”

“What a mess” Rodolphus laughed and disappeared back into the house.

She looked out over the fields, turning away from the two men she had bound herself to in haste to belong. She had turned on everyone, digging for a truth that killed everyone who had found it. Everything had been so carefully orchestrated to isolate her, to destroy anyone who knew the truth about Grindelwald and Dumbledore. That left the three of them. She felt hollow. She had betrayed so many, become a villain to everyone who had helped raise her, and it was all according to the Headmaster’s plan: to get rid of her. To isolate her from her support network and then to kill her, lions separating her from her pack.

She felt Corban’s hand on her back, resting between her shoulder blades, but his warmth felt distant. She was shaking.

“Love,” Corban’s voice was soft.

“He’s coming for us next.” She whispered, horrified. “If we pursue this to the end, we will die.”

“Is the truth worth dying for?” Corban asked her, his hand moved down her back.

She turned and looked up at him. “Does it matter?”

He shook his head.

Antonin’s hand came around her waist and the three of them stood in silent strength, looking over the fields that lay before them.

They were trapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rodolphus is top tier, he's always hanging around to help because he has nothing better to do. Get used to him, it seems like once I introduce him into the fold I can't help but want to write more of him. 
> 
> This story revolves mostly around Hermione following her sense of justice, in the books Hermione would do and did anything she regarded as "right" to get her way, and our supporting cast is just that, they will support her crusade to whatever end it might be. Unfortunately, she's still young, and with bigger power players in the game, it's easy to manipulate her crusade and wield that sense of justice into a weapon.
> 
> Onwards we go.


End file.
